


Bright Star

by boysandstars



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alpha Damian Wayne, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, First Time, Forced Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Modern Royalty, Mpreg, Multi, Omega Tim Drake, Original Character(s), Out of Character, Pregnant Sex, Sexual Slavery, damian is a angry boy with a heart of gold, only bc i know damian could be more bratty but honestly i love it when hes actually kind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-03-26 21:24:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13866303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boysandstars/pseuds/boysandstars
Summary: They lay in bed, Damian's hand on Tim's stomach, his head resting on the boy's chest. They know they shouldn't be together, that if they're caught it will result in a punishment far beyond their worst nightmares, but Damian won't tell him to leave. He can't.Tim whispers to Damian, his voice faint enough to be carried away by the wind, but Damian still hears the words."Let's run."ORTim becomes a royal concubine, an expecting parent, a friend, an outlaw, and a lover, all in that order.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm so excited this is my first time reading this pairing and also this kind of universe thing. I based a lot of this on the Ottoman Empire and even studied up on the customs of the sultan's harem to get a feel of what it might be like. Btw, this is not at all a reflection of Middle Eastern beliefs or traditions, the story is set in a fictional country that has Arabian influences but it is all fiction and is based on multiple cultures throughout history, plus my own garbage world-building skills. 
> 
> I want to cite as well two fics that really inspired me to make this (you can probably see the 'inspiration' in it, but I promise I didn't steal anything):   
>  http://archiveofourown.org/works/5456174/chapters/12613349 (Like Fire, You're Catching by TimmyJaybird)
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/7992202/chapters/18291832 (As Long As You're Mine by firefright and Skalidra) 
> 
> I will try and post all five parts before the end of the month but I do get bad bouts of writer's block (I'm trying to combat it this time by planning ahead) so it could take longer. 
> 
> Also, this isn't beta read so if you find mistakes please tell me, I won't be angry. 
> 
> I think I had more to say but it's almost 4 am so I need to get to bed. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

_For each ecstatic instant_  
_We must an anguish pay._  
_In keen and quivering ratio_  
_To the ecstasy._  
  
_For each beloved hour_  
_Sharp pittances of years,_  
Bitter _contested farthings_  
_And coffers heaped with tears._

\- Emily Dickinson,  _For Each Ecstatic Instant_

 

Tim was dreaming of his mother. Her hair soft in his pudgy baby hands as he tugged on it, giggling when she squawked like a bird at him for it. She smelled like honey and homemade peppermint patties. Her eyes were the same shade of blue as the sky, glistening in the afternoon sun like sapphire jewels. Small hands cupped her rosy cheeks and she closed her eyes.   
  
“ _Timmy,_ ” Janet murmured, “ _My little sunspot_ .”   
  
Before his mother could kiss his head, Tim was shaken from his much needed rest.   
  
“Hm?” He hummed, eyes still shut, half-sleeping mind still chasing his dream, wanting to listen to a second more of his mother’s voice.   
  
“We’re here,” said the low voice beside him, a stern hand on his forearm dragging him forward.   
  
Tim sighed but relented as his handler pulled him into sitting position. He blinked his eyes open, the sun blinding him.   
  
Sandra stood in front of him, a hand stilling holding onto his arm. Her eyes locking with his, speaking words she wasn't voicing. Make yourself presentable.   
  
“I’m moving,” Tim grumbled, shaking off the older woman’s hand as he stood.   
  
“Stand by the carriage. I will get a servant to fetch our things for tonight,” Sandra informed him as she stepped out of the carriage.   
  
“Yes, ma’am,” Tim obeyed.   
  
He allowed Sandra to put the customary silver anklets and handcuffs on him before the woman disappeared to the Palace gate. Ordinarily, Tim would have protested to being cuffed. The boy hadn’t tried to run away in years and wasn’t stupid enough to try it in a country like Nanda Parbat. Tim knew his attempt at freedom was punishable by death. Omegas were never allowed to be out by themselves. Especially those unclaimed or of no social status.   
  
Tonight was not ordinary. Even with Sandra’s trust in him, Tim understood that she still had etiquette to follow. There were rules that Sandra can’t break if they expected to achieve anything tonight. So Tim was silent, obedient like his training taught him to be. Tonight he would have to live up to the expectations an omega who was to be presented to the royal court as an offering. His training would shine brightly this evening.   
  
Sandra returns moments later, trailed by two servants, one male, and one female. Both betas.   
  
They do not address Tim in any way, as they shouldn’t. The servants retrieve the bags from the carriage, guiding the pair to the palace gates. Sandra clips a chain to Tim’s handcuffs, tugging on it as they walk. Tim swallows his embarrassment, pretending this doesn’t feel like a dog on a leash.   
  
As they approach, Tim takes in the palace.   
  
Tim had only seen paintings of it before but up close it was more beautiful than any painting could capture. It’s very old, lasting hundreds of years, virtually untouched by time. The palace is large, made of gold and bronze and lots of hand washed marble pillars. The steps are a slate grey, a green rug many feet long runs down over them, fitting to each step like a glove. Under his bare feet, Tim feels how soft it is. He registers that it must be cleaned daily to be so spotless despite the heavy traffic it receives.   
  
They ascend the steps and arrive on a landing in front of the twenty-foot tall doors made from a wood Tim didn’t know. The servants exchange words with the guardsmen before the door opens to them. Sandra nods with a smile as they enter and Tim makes sure not to meet anyone’s eyes.   
  
When Tim enters the palace, he almost loses his composure.   
  
Compared to the inside, the outside looked like a shack on the side of the road. Gold was everywhere. It was lining the railings, surrounding the window sills, decorating the furniture. Tim was sure at least thirty percent of the world’s gold was right here in the palace. Hues of green and splashes of black and white were the primary colors for all furnishings. The occasional crimson red or golden yellow thrown in as offsets. And what wasn’t covered in gold was covered in silver.   
  
Sandra led him down the hall with the servants walking briskly ahead. The omega noticed each tapestry that stretched from ceiling to floor. All embroidered with tales of war and glory from decades before his time. He took note of all the weaponry hung on display, the knives and swords chipped from various battles throughout time.   
  
Tim learned a lot in his travels with Sandra, especially about the Al Ghul Empire. He knew the empire was a fierce one, which had borne countless great leaders and warriors, including the current Emperor and his heirs. Who were still feared by many. He also learned that the country was isolated, that it was one of the very few left in the world that held onto such outdated traditions like the one happening tonight, which is why the country's interactions with others were rare. It had few allies but also few enemies.   
  
The empire may not choose to fight, but that does not mean it can’t.   
  
They arrived at their room. The servants laid their luggage on a table, bowed, and left, only speaking to tell Sandra that the ceremony would begin in two hours.   
  
“Thank god,” Tim said as soon as they shut the door.   
  
He sighed and sat on the bed in the middle of the room. It was a plain room, he assumed, for the palace, but to Tim it was the most luxurious place he had ever stayed in. A balcony, a bathroom that looked like it had a bathtub the size of a pool in it, and even a nice television. Though he was sure that it would be DVD only. Not a lot of shows in Nanda Parbat.   
  
“Can you take these off now?” Tim gestured with his head to the chains.   
  
Sandra frowned at him but unlocked the cuffs anyway. Tim let them fall to the ground as he laid back on the silk sheets. He hummed, taking in the smell of clean fabric and the desert.   
  
“Don’t get comfortable,” Sandra chided, rummaging through the bags on the table. “We only have two hours to make sure you look your best for tonight.”   
  
Tim groaned, staring at the gold chandelier on the ceiling with contempt.   
  
He wasn’t ready.   
  
***   
  
At eight o’clock, a servant knocked at their door. She was younger than the ones from before and dressed in different attire. Her voice was small when she informed Sandra it was time to bring his offering to the Emperor. When she said offering, she looked at Tim, standing behind Sandra in new, shiner cuffs, in an outfit that barely covered his genitals, and for a second Tim thought she looked saddened by him.   
  
Tim understood. She was young but she wasn’t young enough to not understand the blessing of being a Beta. Tim took a chance and gave her a small smile. She paused before blushing and turning to escort them to the throne room.   
  
During this time, Tim relayed all the information he had on the royal family and the land’s customs in his head, while also remembering the training Sandra had put him through. All of it leading to this night.   
  
Tim wouldn’t like to admit it but he was nervous. If he screwed this up, it could mean he would lose his chance at freedom. Sandra would have no use for him, he would be lucky if Sandra pitied him enough to sell him to a lower noble rather than give him to the vultures that had their eyes set on him years ago.   
  
The young escort opened the door to the throne room and Tim was in awe as he saw all the people. Hundreds of people, all of different status and from different countries, flocked like a group of birds in the middle of the room. Most of them were here for the show. Nobles hoping to pick from the unwanted bunch, guests invited by the royal family, and a few dozen servants running around to help and provide.   
  
Tim could tell who were the offering and the masters because, like him, most of the omegas were adorned in scantily clad garments that protected only their nether regions and left little to the imagination. All omegas chained to a master who stood beside them, eyes like hawks as they examined their omegas for any imperfections.   
  
The omegas varied in ethnicity and gender, spanning from many different countries. Most of them were in the age range of thirteen and twenty, most leaning towards the later teens but Tim could still see a few who looked like they had only experienced their first heat weeks before. Tim knew he was one of the oldest there, being twenty. He held back a shiver at the thought of one of those children chosen to be a concubine, to become a parent when they themselves were still children.   
  
Taking his mind off the young omegas, Tim looked past the crowd and to the front of the room, where he saw the royal family all sitting in their respective seats. In the middle, on the High Throne, sat Ra’s Al Ghul, Emperor of the entire Dynasty.   
  
He loomed over the people, eyes sharp and bony hands perched below his chin. The master held himself with a sense of power and refinement Tim found threatening. Though old, he did not appear weak, quite the opposite, his whole demeanor spoke strength, it screamed authority. Tim felt a stirring in his stomach that was akin to the feeling of stomach acid climbing into your throat.   
  
To Ra’s' left was his oldest child and only son, Dusan, an albino beta who looked very disinterested in the whole ordeal. Tim knew he was the odd duck of the family, both because he was albino and because he had yet to take a mate and never would. Sandra had met Dusan once and she recalled to Tim that the man had a particular distaste for people, especially those presented to him by his family.   
  
Beside Dusan was Nyssa, Ra’s second eldest child, and first daughter. She was an alpha, which should have made her the sole heir to the throne, but Tim knew that the title had been stripped from her after she had gone insane from the deaths of her mate and child. Afterward she killed her only concubine when they did not produce a child from their heat right away and was nearly exiled from the country, only managing to stay because of her relinquishing of the throne.   
  
On his left was a woman who looked to be in her early forties, Tim knew her to be Talia, Ra’s youngest child and the mother of the heir. She was beta but acted as an alpha so much so that if it weren’t for Tim’s excellent sense of smell and the briefing Sandra had given him, he might have believed her to be. Talia possessed the same strength and cunning as Ra’s, but he felt a far more possessive nature exuding off of her. One that made it clear Talia did not find any omega in the crowd suitable for her son already. Tim was glad that the empire had stopped letting parents choose concubines for their heirs long ago. He was sure that she would have never chosen anyone, let alone him.   
  
And on the end, beside Talia, was Damian Al Ghul, the heir to the Demon’s Head. The boy was beautiful, even if Tim hated to admit it. Damian looked a lot like his mother. He had her jade colored eyes and dark skin, but his hair was jet black and his build was more stocky than lean. Even sitting, Tim was impressed by the prince’s height, knowing that standing up he would be clearing six foot easily. Everything about the boy’s appearance was pleasing to the eye, and his emerald and gold robes made his features even more prominent.   
  
Tim was grateful that at least if he is chosen, he'll get to be taken by someone beautiful.   
  
He did make note of Damian’s unpleasant look, though. It wasn’t quite as venomous as his mother's or as unimpressed as his uncle, more like his grandfather. Calculating yet annoyed.   
  
Tim’s gaze was forced away from the family by Sandra, who had clicked her tongue behind him to alert Tim that it was time for him to be presented.   
  
Sandra and Tim lined up behind the other suitors and their omegas. He was between a girl who was possibly fourteen with long red hair and freckles whose owner was old and grey, and a late teens boy with copper skin and dark eyes, his master a woman in her mid-thirties.   
  
One by one the omegas were brought up to the edge of the small staircase leading to the thrones, where they were introduced and presented like award winning, purebred dogs to the royal family. Tim silently prayed for each of them, especially the ones who shook and fidgeted under the harsh eyes of the family.   
  
On occasion, Tim saw Ra’s nod and glance at Damian, who examined the omegas as if he were about to purchase a new outfit to wear. He never returned the nod, but he did meet his grandfather’s gaze once or twice.   
  
The closer they got, the more Tim’s stomach flipped. He was beginning to fear the outcomes. Weighing the options in his head, he tried to decide what was worse: becoming a concubine to do nothing but birth children for the rest of his life or get sold to some sex trafficking business where he would be subjected to multiple men until he died. Be one man’s sex slave or many men’s sex slave? Hard choice.   
  
Tim took notice that Damian had only shown interest in one omega throughout the presentations and that was one who had dared to utter a hello to the royal family despite the look their master gave them afterward. Tim had also noticed Damian showed a face of disgust whenever one of the younger omegas were presented to him, giving Tim hope for himself and also relief that the prince at least had that amount of dignity when choosing a concubine.   
  
Tim was next, he watched as the young girl in front of him stepped forward in front of her master to be presented. He heard that her name was Sophia, she was thirteen, from Russia, and was expecting her second heat in one week. Tim wanted to shake with both fear and anger that this poor child was being presented a month after hitting puberty, but he steeled himself, knowing that Damian would prefer someone better put together than a shaking train wreck.   
  
As Sophia left, Tim waited until he was beckoned before stepping up to the staircase and kneeling before the Emperor and his family. Tim felt eyes bore into him, knew he was being scrutinized beyond belief right now. They were picking apart his every feature, from his bone structure to his hip size to his muscle mass. Tim knew he was well built and very attractive but under those piercing gazes he felt like an ant about to be squashed.   
  
Sandra cleared her throat and Tim knew she was about to give a brief summary to the family. Making a quick judgment call, Tim lifted his eyes from the floor and bravely looked directly into Damian’s eyes, something he was sure none of the other omegas would have thought to do. If any had looked up, he guaranteed they would have looked at Ra’s or Talia.   
  
But they weren’t the ones choosing, Damian was.   
  
Damian didn’t flinch, but he did raise an eyebrow at Tim, a small smirk playing on his lips. Tim could feel the other eyes on him, particularly Talia’s, which were glaring daggers into his skull, but he did not waver. He held Damian’s gaze straight on, almost like it was a challenge.   
  
Tim had the feeling Damian liked a challenge.   
  
“This is Timothy. He had been with me since he was thirteen, now twenty. Timothy is very cultured as we have spent most of our time traveling the world. He is incredibly smart, well trained, and fertile. He was also from the same litter that Stephanie, my daughter’s omega, came from. Timothy’s next heat will present itself in two weeks time,” Sandra provided to the family.   
  
Tim still did not look away, knowing that Sandra wasn’t done.   
  
“Also,” Sandra added, her voice becoming more alluring, lowering pitch almost to a whisper, as if she were about to tell a secret, “Timothy is completely untouched.”   
  
Tim could feel the shock. He saw it even on Damian, the slight raise of the eyebrows, the purse of the lips. Tim allowed his lips to curl upwards just enough for Damian to notice. And he did.   
  
“Completely?” Talia asked, disbelieving.   
  
Sandra nodded.   
  
“He’s never been touched, not even by a beta's hands,” Sandra did not forget to add, “No offense, Lady Talia, Lord Dusan.”   
  
“None taken,” Dusan replied. Talia just squinted.   
  
“That is almost unheard of,” She countered, “And slightly worrying. What if he is unable to please Damian?”   
  
Tim wanted to laugh. While Sandra had not lied, Tim was never touched by alphas or betas, he had gone through a couple of heats with help from a fellow omega before. The same Stephanie Sandra had referred to, in fact. Not the same as an alpha, but he still knew enough for him to pleasure Damian, even if he didn’t want to.   
  
Sandra was calm as she replied.   
  
“Timothy may be untouched, but I assure you that the young prince will find Timothy quite pleasurable nonetheless due to his fast learning and eagerness to please his highness. He has been trained for years to be a perfect omega.”   
  
Tim wasn’t sure but at that statement, he could have sworn he saw Damian’s eyes flicker and his shoulders tense.   
  
“Even fast learning can’t always make up for inexperience-”   
  
“Talia,” Ra’s cut his daughter off. She halted her sentence abruptly and clamped her mouth shut. Tim was grateful.   
  
“Please excuse my daughter, Lady Sandra. She is the overbearing type,” The emperor said, his voice sharp as a knife.   
  
“I understand, your majesty. This is a very special day for both her and her son. A mother can only want what is best for her child,” Sandra smiled at the old man courteously.   
  
“Well spoken, Lady Sandra. Thank you for your presentation.”   
  
“My pleasure, your majesty. Thank you for your time.”   
  
Sandra was beginning to walk away from the throne and as he did, Tim stood, looked right at Damian and spoke.   
  
“Thank you for your consideration, my prince, and you, my emperor,” Tim made a point to nod his head to Ra’s, “I hope I have left a good impression on you both.” Then he bowed and exited swiftly behind Sandra.   
  
Without evening turning to look, he knew all eyes were on him. Tim forced himself to breathe, to not allow his face to flush, and to keep his body still. He appeared calm as can be as he settled onto his knees beside Sandra.   
  
“You either just made the biggest mistake in history,” Sandra whispered through her teeth, “Or have cemented our way in.”   
  
Tim wanted to believe it was the latter option.   
  
***   
  
The rest of the presentations continued as planned. No one else did anything as bold as Tim, but he did notice a few of them thank Ra’s. It didn’t matter, though, because Tim knew he had been the first, the most courageous, and he knew it was working in his favor already.   
  
Not once had Damian’s eyes left him since he was presented. Tim didn’t need to look to know they were on him, he could feel it. But he stole a glance anyway.   
  
Their eyes met and Damian smiled. It was arrogant, shark-like, and predatory. Tim felt a chill run down his spine but felt compelled to return the gesture. His smile was less teeth and pride, more subtle, suggestive, but still as meaningful. Damian gave an almost chuckle and Tim knew that there wasn’t a need for any more presentations.   
  
Damian was going to pick him.   
  
***   
  
When the offering ending finally, Tim felt frustrated. He was ready to get off the floor, ready to be picked and then whisked away to some comfy room where he could nap for a couple hours while the celebration was held in the prince’s honor.   
  
As the last omega took their position, Ra’s rose from his throne.   
  
He was even scarier when he was standing. His elegant robes and cloak sweeping the floor beneath him, taller than imagined, and in unbelievably great shape for a man in his seventies.   
  
“As you all know,” He addressed the crowd, “Today is the day our young prince starts his journey to becoming a proper successor to the throne. It is a journey that every Demon’s Head before him has had to suffer through, one that will prepare him for the responsibilities of leading our people, of continuing the great Al Ghul lineage, even during the Great Decline.”   
  
The Great Decline was what people referred when speaking about the extreme decrease of alphas and omegas in recent history. Back in the early 200s BC, there was a serious decline in birthrates, which brought about the caste system. Since normal biology couldn’t seem to produce enough children, mother nature combated by giving females the ability to impregnate and males the ability to reproduce. Humans were separated into the three categories: alpha, beta, omega. And by the 300s, there was about thirty percent alphas, sixty percent omegas, and ten percent betas in the world.   
  
The Great Decline began happening in the 1700s. More and more betas were being born and reproducing with each other and alpha and omega births began to become few and far between. Now about fifty-eight percent of the population were betas, leaving twenty-six percent left as omegas, and a measly sixteen percent alpha population. A drastic decline in such a short span of time.   
  
“It is up to our empire to uphold the tradition of old, to ensure the reproduction of more alphas and omegas.”   
  
Tim wanted to roll his eyes.   
  
The tradition of old Ra’s spoke of was the promising of many omegas to one alpha, a harem for the alpha to use to give them heirs and sate their sexual desires. Back in the old days alphas had to mate with groups of omegas due to the abundance of omegas verses the shortage of male betas and alphas. Now, it was viewed unnecessary and, in most countries had been outlawed.   
  
“And above all, to keep the caste system at balance,” Ra’s flashed his teeth at that part.   
  
Tim wanted to throw up. He knew that Ra’s meant he wanted to keep alphas at the top of the pyramid while making sure omegas were almost less than humans. Another very outdated view on the world.   
  
Knowing Damian most likely had that view as well almost made Tim regret his bold actions.   
  
But Damian did seem to enjoy his brashness, and Tim knew that pleasing Damian was his only chance at a ticket to home again.   
  
“Now, I present to you all my grandson, Damian, as he chooses his first concubine, who will bear him a healthy first child and, with luck, an heir to replace him someday as he will replace me soon,” Ra’s held out his arm to the boy, who stood and took it.   
  
“Damian, choose well,” Was all Ra’s said before resuming his spot on his throne.   
  
Damian nodded, thanking his grandfather before he set off down the stairs.   
  
Tim watched as Damian ignored the hopeful yet petrified stares of the omegas and their masters. Not a single glance given to any of them, his eyes locked onto Tim with something like righteous fury burning in them.   
  
Tim remained still and steady as the alpha stood before him, a hand extended, face straight and eyes boring into his very being.   
  
“You,” Damian spoke tersely, “You will be mine, Timothy.”   
  
Tim took the offered hand and grinned.   
  
***

Tim’s hope for napping was killed the moment he was escorted from the throne room. Two servants waited with him at the door while a third was sent away to fetch the eunuchs--caste-less men and women whose reproductive organs and scent glands had been removed to quench any sexual desire. These would be his personal servants since they were the only people trusted to be around Tim.

The third servant came back minutes later, followed closely by three eunuchs. Tim couldn’t make out their genders by he knew it didn’t matter anyway.

“Come, sir,” Spoke the tallest, clutching onto his chains.

Tim obeyed, trailing the eunuch the other two following behind him.

“We will prepare you in the seraglio washroom, then we shall bring you into the Mating Chambers for tonight’s consummation ceremony,” Spoke the smaller one to the left.

Tim took a risk, feebly asking, “Am I allowed to speak to you?”

The one in front nodded, along with the ones now to his left and right.

“Yes,” said the one on his right, who sounded distinctly like a young woman, “But not too much. Only if needed.”

“I see. Thank you.” Tim didn’t mean to, but he felt himself frown.

“Fear not, young sir, once you have your first child other concubines will fill the harem and you will have plenty of company,” The left one cheerfully informed.

Tim smiled weakly at them, trying to pretend those words eased him. He didn’t want to show them that he thought this life sounded like a nightmare. Being forced to have a child he didn’t want in order to be provided with the company of other enslaved omegas was not a calming thought.

The group did not speak the rest of the time they walked. Tim had no more questions to ask them, at least not ones that fell under the category of ‘only if needed.’ So they all walked in silence until Tim was being ushered into a room.

The room was a commons area shaped like a horseshoe. In the middle were several couches and pillows with blankets draped over them, all in front of a tall fireplace. Above its mantle was a portrait of the royal family, Ra’s sitting in the middle of all his children and concubines, looking younger and more frightening than he was now.

Tim could tell who’s mother was who’s in the picture, aside from one woman whom Tim deduced must have been Ra’s mate. He knew little about the previous Empress Consort, only that she died around the time of Talia’s birth and Ra’s never had any more concubines or children afterward. From the painting, Tim thought she looked kind, like a woman who wasn’t suited for the lifestyle of an Empress Consort.

Six doors were on either side of the fireplace. Tim guessed them to be the rooms for the harem of omegas. Even though there were twelve doors total--ten was the average amount of omegas a ruler had--there was room to hold up to three omegas per room.

Tim didn’t have long to take in the room before he was dragged through a door on the wall left of the fireplace, which led into the shared washroom. It was all white with a massive bath in the middle and several shower heads surrounding it. Tim watched the taller eunuch pass his leash to the one on his right before stalking over to the table that was filled with dozens of different colored bottles and instruments.

“Run the bath,” The eunuch undoing his chains instructed to the other.

Tim waited patiently while all three worked to prepare his bath. The tallest was pouring a couple bottles into the water as the smaller one grabbed a bowl filled with soaps and scrubs to bring to the side of the bath. The eunuch Tim thought to be a female had finished with his chains and was undoing the clasps on the sides of his cloth.

When the red material fell to the ground, Tim’s face flushed faintly with embarrassment. Only two people in the world besides his mother and father had seen him naked--Sandra and Stephanie. The omega fidgeted uncomfortably as he washed guided to the water by the female handmaid.

If any of them noticed his self-consciousness, they said nothing.

The boy lowered himself into the pool of steaming water, his body humming appreciatively as he settled into the heat. Tim let out a sigh of contentment while he relaxed in the bath. He could make out some smells from the soaps, like the subtle rose and lavender, or the touch of something citrus. The warm water and scents relaxed his mind and muscles so much Tim felt like he could fall asleep in the bath.

A pair of gentle hands came to his scalp, lathering it with a soap that smelled like his mother’s gardens. Tim leaned into the touch, imagining he was a child again and it was his mother bathing him, not some stranger whose name he would never know.

Another pair of hands began to wash his body while a third started scrubbing the dirt from another his fingernails. Tim thought about how if he was a couple years younger this would have been mortifying. His teenage self would have hated being treated like a pet in need of grooming. In fact, young Tim might have even rebelled, insisting that he could at least wash himself.

But older Tim, the one who sometimes went weeks without washing himself, who was happy for a bucket of water to bath with most days, understood that this was a luxury compared to his usual life. So he let himself be pampered, be cleaned by hands that weren’t his own. The omega knew this would probably his last couple of hours of relaxation before he became someone’s slave.

So he didn’t mind being lazy for now.

***

The bath was nice up until the hair removal. Tim liked the body washing, even liked when his nails were painted a bright red like his long forgotten loincloth, but when the eunuchs came with long strips of paper and a pot of hot wax, the boy knew he was in trouble.

It wasn’t necessarily painful, save for his genitals and bottom, but it was humiliating. Tim knew the eunuchs could sense his shame too because the smaller held his hand while his body hair was waxed.

Afterward, Tim let out a deep breath he had been holding it during the waxing. He looked at himself, smooth and shiny from the oils rubbed on his body, like a porcelain doll. The omega felt a chill run down his spin, perhaps from the thought of being made to look like a toy, or from the cool air on his hairless body. Maybe both.

The female eunuch left her companions to clean up the washroom was she took Tim to the room on the right by the fireplace.

“This will be your room after tonight. It only has the essentials right now, but in time you may request for more items to be placed in here. Every room in the seraglio is available to you whenever you wish, and the lounging areas and kitchens on this side of the palace will be open to you throughout the day as well,” She told him as she began to compare robes she would dress him in.

“The Young Prince’s room will be adjacent to the seraglio but you are forbidden to enter it unless he bequeaths explicit permission to you. And you may not enter it unaccompanied or after lights out. The same courtesy is extended to you, His Highness may only enter the seraglio if you allow him to or if it is an emergency. His Highness does not have to be accompanied in the seraglio but it is appreciative if you inform a servant that is where he will be,” The instructions are clear but Tim’s beginning to hear fuzz as his nerves kick in.

This is real. He is going to be a concubine. A slave.

His breath hitches when the woman places a scarlet colored robe to his chest.

Her eyebrows furrow with concern.

“Are you sensitive? Is the fabric too rough?” She asks, then her face is shrouded in an emotion Tim can’t recognize fully, his mind panicking too much. “Are you perhaps going into heat?”

Tim shakes his head almost vigorously.

“No,” His voice shakes no matter how hard he fights to keep himself calm, “My heat is not for two weeks,” The woman’s face relaxes slightly, “And the fabric is fine. I’m just-”

“Scared.” She finishes his sentence softly.

Tim nods his head. He sees no point in lying when they are in private.

A gentle hand tentatively squeezes his shoulder. Tim flinches but doesn’t jerk away, unused to touch but not unwanting of it. The hand stays clamped on his shoulder while the handmaid whispers to the omega.

“The first night is the hardest. It will get better.”

Tim doubts that as he gives her a sad smile. She returns the gesture before pulling back her hand and retrieving another robe from the bed. Tim feels the warmth of her hand still on his shoulder and misses it immediately.

The robes she dresses him in are solid black.

Tim finds it symbolic.

***

He’s brought to the Mating Chamber by the same handmaid. The Chamber is at the end of the hall, away from both the seraglio and the prince’s room.

“For added privacy,” The woman comments, understanding the confusion on his face.

Entering the room, Tim feels his chest clenching, a hand wringing his heart out inside. The staggers a bit as he walks to the bed, flopping on it carelessly. The mattress is fluffy like a cloud, the sheets made from animal fur softer than anything Tim had felt before. He runs his hands through the fur in an attempt to relax himself, closing his eyes and telling himself to breathe evenly.

Tim hears the eunuch shuffle around the room. He hyper focuses on the noises her robes make against her skin while she walks. The boy remembers the sound of his mother’s party dresses when they would sweep along the floor while she walked through the house getting ready for a night out. He can hear his father groaning as his mother mutters for him to wait just another minute as she desperately searches for her pearl earring. His younger fails to hide his laughter behind his hands. Janet laughs too, and Jack sighs dramatically.

The crack of flame from a match throws the boy back into reality. He opens his eyes wearily and watches as the handmaid lights some candles with one match, then lights an incense with another. A faintly sweet scent fills the room, something warm that reminds Tim of freshly baked cookies.

“Vanilla is considered to be one of the strongest natural aphrodisiacs in the world.”

Tim nods, not completely present mentally.

The woman disappears into what Tim assumes is the connected bathroom for a moment before returning with a basket filled with small vials. She sets the basket on the bedside table, plucking a tear-shaped silver vial from the middle. Popping the lid off, she grabs Tim’s hand and begins to pour clear liquid into his palm.

“Rub the oil on your scent glands. It increases your natural omega scent.”

Tim swallows, frowning at his hands, but follows the instructions. He rubs his hands together, then lathers generous amounts on his neck, wrists, and behind his knees. He waits to see if she’ll ask him to rub the oil on his feet, but she doesn’t, justs tucks the vial back into its place.

“This one is for extra lubrication used only during heats, so as to not disturb the natural lubrication produced,” She points to a gold vial at the bottom, “This, for stimulating ruts,” a blue circular one beside the scent oil, “that one will ease any pain caused by muscle tearing or straining,” she points to the green bottle on the other side of the scent oil.

Tim shudders at the thought of being treated so roughly. At the _possibility_ of being used to the point of bodily damage, and then being pushed even farther.

“The rest is just standard lubricants and more aphrodisiacs,” She turns to him, checking to make sure he understood what she had just said. Tim nods, filing the information away.

“His Highness should arrive soon. Make yourself comfortable until then.”

Tim opens his mouth but she cuts him off.

“Oh, and tonight you will sleep in here with the Prince. These chambers, as you have, I’m sure, guessed, are used only during the first night and during heats. Typically, the mating couple would spend a whole heat inside the chambers, without contact from the rest of the palace, so as to ensure the couple mates as much as needed during the heat, in hopes of producing a child quicker. Since you are not in heat, you will only spend one night here, fulfilling the customary act of the first consummation,” She says quickly, and Tim almost doesn’t catch all of what she says.

“The Prince and I have to...‘mate’ in here tonight?” Tim questions hesitantly.   

“Yes,” The eunuch replies, “Although, you only have to consummate the marriage, after that, what you and his highness do is your business alone to discuss.”

“I understand,” Tim knows she means that they only need to have sex once, but he doubts that the prince will be sated from one time. “Thank you.”

The handmaid bows to him, “Goodnight, young sire.”

She turns to leave but Tim hastily grabs her by the shoulder.

“Wait,” Her eyebrows raise at him, “Can you tell me your name?”

“Young sir-”

“Please. I have no one anymore, not even my old master. I just want to feel a little less lonely before tonight,” His words are rushed, his lips quivering as he speaks.

Tim knows that this is risky, that if she is caught talking so intimately with him she could be fired, or worse, but his fear is outweighing his reason.

The woman bites her lip, deciding. Tim anxiously twists one hand in the sheets beside him, the other gripping her robes desperately. Eventually, she sighs.

“Kiran,” She murmurs, “My name is Kiran.”

When she looks at Tim, he notices her eyes have flecks of gold in them.

“Thank you.” Tim’s voice is delicate like he’s on the edge of a precipice and if he is any louder, he will fall.

She does not speak another word to him as she leaves, shutting the door quietly, leaving Tim alone in the sweet smelling room.

***

Tim waited for another hour before he heard a knock on the door, startling him from his almost-nap. The boy panicked internally, hurriedly fixing himself in a position he hoped the prince would find enticing. Legs spread across the bed, on his stomach, one arm behind his head and the other splayed over a pillow.

Swallowing, he said to open the door in the most sultry voice he could manage, refraining from psychically cringing.

The door silently swung open, the Prince entering, head downcast while he shut the door behind him. Tim realized he was right when guessing Damian’s height. The other was easily taller than six feet, maybe even taller than his grandfather.

“My liege,” Tim purred, smirking.

“Please sit up,” Damian commanded, still not looking at Tim.

Tim sat up quickly, crossing his legs, back straightening. He watched as Damian began to undress from his robes.

“Do you want help, your highness?” He asked in the same tone.

Damian’s shoulders stiffened, “Don’t call me that.”

Tim’s face fell. “I’m sorry, sir. I did-”

“Don’t call me sir,” The reply was sharp, stabbing doubt right into Tim.

“I-I don’t know, I’m sorry, I-” His body felt like fire, burning up with embarrassment as Tim spluttered apologies.

Damian sighed heavily and Tim clamped his mouth shut, already afraid he has messed up. The last thing he wanted, he needed, was to be thrown out of the Prince’s bed. Perhaps the Prince desired a silent partner. A warm body to use as he pleased, dreaming of someone else, someone he could dispose of without a single word.

Tim’s heart tightened in his chest at those thoughts, but he understood that emotions were not part of their arrangement. Tim was his slave, the vessel to carry his heir in--not his partner.

Damian was halfway done with undressing, only his pants left, when he stalked over to Tim. The omega looked him in the eyes as he approached, testing to see if Damian still wanted some part of him to be courageous in bed.

The Prince stopped in front of him, looking down at Tim, placing either of his hands on the bed by Tim’s thighs. He was so tall Tim had bent his neck backward slightly in order to meet his eyes.

Up close, Damian’s eyes looked like jewels, sparkly and clear.

“Call me, Damian,” The Prince spoke quietly. Then, as if he had forgotten to, he murmured, “Please.”

Tim nodded slowly, confusion riddling his brain. He had never heard of concubines being permitted to call their master by their name. And he had especially never heard of them being _asked._

“Sure,” He replied, scolding himself for being so casual.

“Thank you, Timothy.”

Damian stepped back a foot so he could slip off his pants. Tim took in his physique while he did, admiring how warm his skin looked in the lamplight. He noticed that the alpha was in remarkable shape, his muscles toned but not overly prominent, enough that Tim knew he was more active than a normal person but still subtle enough that he could hide it in his robes. Tim saw a couple scars on him, some white and faded, a few pink, and one in particular that looked like it stretched from his left side to his back.

Evidently, the prince had seen him staring because he pointed to the scar, trailing it over with a single slim finger.

“I received this while hunting in the mountains as a child,” Damian told him softly, “I had not been paying attention and had gotten lost. When I heard my mother’s voice, I instinctively ran towards her and ended up tumbling down a steep climb, tearing my side on a rather sharp rock in the process.”

“Ouch,” Tim whispered, staring while Damian turned to show him the rest of the scar on his back. “Looks like it had to have been painful.”

Damian shrugged, turning to face Tim again.

“I had to get stitches, but that was the worst of it. In truth, what hurt more was the ride back to  the palace as my mother lectured me for running off,” Damian smiled fondly, remembering, “If you couldn’t tell, my mother is a little overbearing.”

Tim laughed, “I could tell.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” He began, “I don’t mean to overstep-”

Damian shook his head, holding up a hand.

“Please, I am not insulted.” Damian scratched his neck almost nervously. “You do not need to hold yourself back in here, Timothy. I will not punish you for telling the truth or making conversation.”

Tim could hear the emotion in Damian’s voice, saw a flicker of what Tim would describe as shame in his eyes.

“You do not need to be _afraid_ of me,” Damian sounded like he was begging Tim.

The other boy smiled, trying to reassure the alpha. Trying to not be afraid.

Silence overtook the room as the two boys gazed at one another, eyes meeting cautiously. Both afraid of the other’s reaction, it seemed. Neither wanted to break the quiet but both understood that there were still matters that had to be tended to.

“Damian,” Tim called him tentatively, still worried about the informal address.

Carefully, he uncrossed his legs. It was an invitation, a suggestion for Damian to come forward. And he did, sliding between Tim’s spread thighs, hands gently resting on his shoulders. Tim ignored the tremors in the other’s arms as he leaned up, hesitantly pressing their mouths together.

Damian was still while Tim worked his lips awkwardly against his. The omega felt the hands on him grip to the point of pain, wincing while he sucked on Damian’s bottom lip. His hands found themselves rubbing Damian’s sides, trying to ease the boy who was as unmoving as a statue.

Frustrated and worried, but unwilling to show it, Tim broke them apart.

“Is this not to your liking?” He asked, concerned.

Damian seemed to choke on his reply. Words failing him, he grabbed Tim’s face and roughly smashed their mouths together again. Tim sighed, grateful for the response.

The kiss was messy, teeth clanking against each other and lips being bitten by accident, but it wasn’t bad. Not that Tim had a lot to compare to, but he was certain it could have been worse. Damian didn’t have to kiss him, so he was glad for the affection as well. He was happy that Damian was at least willing to allow him this pleasure.

Tim snaked one arm around Damian’s waist, the other going to untie his loose-fitting robes. Once the string was undone, he quickly began shaking the fabric off, fumbling as he tried to keep the kiss going while he shoved the clothing off. Damian caught on to his actions and helped remove the robes.

Once the top half of his body was unsheathed, Tim wrapped his arms around Damian’s neck and pulled him down onto the bed, lips still working restlessly against the other boy’s. Damian climbed on top of Tim, using his forearms to brace himself, his legs on either side of Tim’s of thighs. His body loomed over Tim, Damian’s shadow enveloping his smaller body. The omega was completely boxed in under him.

Tim gasped when he felt Damian’s hardening erection press against stomach, the warmth of sliding over his bare skin sending chills down his spine. The omega took this opportunity to slide his hand down, stroking the stiffening length, remembering what was supposed to happen tonight. Damian shuddered in his grasp, dropping his head against Tim’s shoulder as he groaned.

Tim kissed his head and used his other hand to rub lightly up and down Damian’s back.

“How do you like it?” Tim whispered into Damian’s ear, causing another shiver to ripple through the Prince’s body.

“I..I don’t know,” Damian breathed out. “I’ve never-” His breath hitched when Tim cupped his balls, squeezing them-“Never done this before.”

Tim paused, in shock at the confession. Damian whined, bucking his hips into the hand, muttering words Tim didn’t know but could guess was some sort of plea. Tim continued stroking the hard member, shaking off the disbelief to refocus on pleasing Damian.

Tim carded his hand through Damian’s hair, which was surprisingly soft, as he pumped his other, alternating between fondling Damian’s balls to give slow, teasing drags along his cock. Damian kissed his neck, occasionally nipping at it, and Tim knew he was getting closer to the edge, but he would need _more_ to truly push him over.

“Do you want to be inside me?” Tim’s voice was low, enticing.

He wanted to sound as if he wanted that. He wanted to convey willingness, and so he had to shove away any fears he had in his mind. If Tim was going to do this then he would need to set aside his feelings, his dreams of how his first time should have gone were killed the moment he was sold into slavery. He should be grateful that at least he wasn’t the only one losing his virginity.

And that he wasn’t in heat.

Damian didn’t say any words in reply but he moaned against Tim’s skin. Goosebumps spread like wildfire across his skin and Tim held back a shiver.

Tim went to reach for the basket that had all the vials but Damian held him down. Terror struck Tim for a second as he thought that Damian might want to enter him without any lubrication, but it was short-lived as Damian himself reached for one of the vials in the basket.

“Let me,” The young prince said breathlessly.

“Grab a silver one,” Tim told him.

Damian did so, plucking one from the bottom corner, returning his attention to the omega beneath him. He ran a hand along the expanse of Tim’s body, fingers grazings over his nipple, pinching the bud and twisting it. Tim arched his back in encouragement, a whine slipping from his lips. Damian’s hand left his nipple and slid down to grip and release his hip bone.

Tim lifted his hips as Damian tugged the robe off of him. The prince tossed the clothing somewhere on the ground and went back to exploring his omega’s body. Tim was so soft and pliant, Damian felt like he could rip him apart with ease. He had never seen a person appear so delicate, so fragile.

He was admiring Tim’s smooth skin when he noticed his cock. It was still only half hard, nearly limp against the boy. Damian’s face settled into a deep frown.

“Something the matter?” Tim reached up to run a hand down Damian’s chest.

Damian grabbed the hand, bring it up to his mouth and placing a tender kiss on his wrist. Tim trembled underneath him.

“Is this not to your liking?” Damian quoted Tim’s earlier question.

Tim gave him a questionable look. Damian’s eyes darted to his length, Tim’s eyes following, and he watched the realization dawn on the boy’s face, his eyes widening and mouth gaping.

“Oh, _oh,_ ” Tim mumbled, cheeks flushing, “No, I just-it’s not you. I promise.” His mouth pursed like he had sucked on a lemon.

Damian dropped a hand down to run his fingers lightly over the omega’s member. Tim bit down on his lip, a noise bubbling in throat.

“I want you to make you feel good,” Damian told him, “I want you to enjoy this, too.” He could feel the cock starting to stiffen in his hand. “Even under the circumstances.”

Damian watched as Tim struggled to hold back his gasps, worrying his lip maddeningly.

“You don’t...don’t need to-”

Damian dropped down low, hovering his face over Tim’s.

“I _want_ to.”

Tim shook against him, a long groan leaving his traitorous lips. Damian smiled, kissing his face, trailing down to his neck and then his chest.

The alpha took one nipple into his mouth, using the hand that wasn’t working up Tim to pinch the other bud. Tim’s hands gripped onto his hair as he bucked up into Damian’s fist, erection finally at full mast.

Pleased with himself, Damian took his hand away from Tim’s perky nipple to grab the vial he had set on the bed again. As he unscrewed the cap, he pulled the nipple into his mouth between his teeth, stretching it just slightly when he pulled away, earning a savory sound from the omega.

Damian poured a good amount of the vial’s contents on his fingers, spreading the clear liquid between them until they were completely coated. Setting the vial back on the bedside table, the prince spread Tim’s legs apart, tucking under his arm as he held the other one to the side, allowing him easy access to Tim’s entrance.

The alpha trailed down the crease, stopping when he felt the relaxing muscle under the pad of his finger. He circled the entrance, glossing it over and watching Tim’s reaction before daring to press in. Tim sucked in a sharp breath but did not display any signs of pain at the new sensation. Damian took this as a sign to begin thrusting the finger in and out of him.

He worked slowly, eyes glued to Tim’s face, flushed and covered with a sheen of sweat already. Damian rubbed his thumb against the omega’s thigh, trying to comfort him the best he could.

“You can..add-add more,” Tim stuttered out.

Damian obliged, adding in a second digit. He watched Tim’s eyebrows wrinkle at the added pressure, still no clear pain but no real pleasure either. Tim felt discomfort from being stretched but it wasn’t unbearable, just awkward. He tried not to look at Damian as the boy scissored his fingers, distracting himself by tracing his fingers over the alphas abdomen and chest, drawing his fingers over the scars and bumps of his abs.

Tim drummed along Damian’s collarbone, ran hands over his shoulders and cupped the back of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. Damian eagerly responded, and Tim made a mental note that Damian liked being led more than he liked leading a kiss. The omega experimentally swiped his tongue across the other’s bottom lip, pressing the flesh against his teeth until Damian opened for him, allowing him access to his mouth. Tim explored, tongue rubbing against Damian’s heatedly, licking inside his cheeks and the roof of his mouth.

When Damian inserted a third finger, he swallowed Tim’s gasp hungrily, mind clouding with lust for the one beneath him. Tim shifted, hands tightening their vice on Damian’s shoulders while the fingers inside him thrust in and out of him. He felt the stretch, felt himself being worked apart. Thought of it as practice before the big show.

The kiss became sloppier as Tim began to lose focus. It was becoming too much, yet it wasn’t enough. His hips ground down, rubbing against the fingers, trying to get even more inside him. Damian’s hand stroked his thigh, rubbing from his knee right to the juncture where his body and leg met. So close to the spot Tim really wanted him to touch.

“I need-” Tim tried to speak, fucking himself down onto the fingers, would cry if he had to if it meant getting what he needed.

Damian did not tease him. When the fingers slid out of him, Tim let out a whine that he would have felt ashamed to have made if his head wasn’t filled with want. Damian just continued rubbing his thigh while he lathered his cock, trying to be thorough despite his own overwhelming desire.

Damian positioned himself against Tim’s entrance, the head just barely touched his hole.

“ _Damian,_ ” Tim begged in a voice so angelic yet so lewd, in a way Damian had never heard his name spoken except for in his dreams.

It was all Damian needed before he was pushing into the omega.

Tim’s face scrunched and he stopped breathing. It was sudden and just painful enough that he couldn’t ignore it. He breathed, trying to adjust quickly to Damian’s girth.

“Does it hurt?” Damian asked, forcing himself to still inside him.

Tim shrugged but his arms shook as they held onto Damian’s.

“Just keep moving,” He urged. “I just need to get used to it, I think.”

Damian nodded, still not convinced, but slowly started sinking his cock in any way, unable to fight against how amazing Tim felt. Slowly, he pushed in, stroking Tim’s sides, his chest, his arms as he buried himself in the omega. Damian groaned once he felt his hips meet Tim’s backside.

The alpha looked at where he was connected to the boy under him. He saw Tim’s hole twitch around his length, the skin of the hilt of his erection barely visible. Damian’s balls tightened just from the sight of himself cloaked in Tim’s body.

“Fuck,” He grunted, dragging his cock out of Tim and slowly pushing in again. “God, you feel so good.”

Tim moaned his thanks, finally being to relax. Damian kissed his chest as he thrust. Tim wrapped his arms around Damian’s shoulders, one leg hooking around his waist, the other pressing against his side.

“Faster, go faster, please, please,” Tim mewled, rocking against Damian desperately.

Damian bit down onto Tim’s clavicle as he picked up his pace, fucking into the smaller boy quickly. Tim gasped when he felt the teeth on his skin, whined when Damian lapped over the mark with his tongue, then repeated the action higher on his neck. Tim could feel the blood rushing to the spots Damian was marking him with, relishing in knowing that tomorrow there would be bruising decorating his skin. Something primal in him wanted Damian to cover every inch of his skin in purple and yellow.

With each bite, Damian got closer to his scent glands, sending body-wracking chills down to his toes. Tim began to hope that Damian would run his tongue over his glands, wetting them, tasting them, before he would sink his teeth into the sensitive skin, sending Tim over the edge. His toes curled with thinking of it.

Seemingly reading his mind, Damian mouthed over one of the glands, his tongue flicking out against it. Tim arched his back, trying to push himself into Damian’s mouth.

“Damiandamiandamian,” He chanted like a prayer.

Damian’s hips slapped against his rhythmically. Tim could faintly register the sound of skin slapping against skin and it sounded like music to his ears. Damian’s hands gripped his hips tightly, lifting them up to get a better angle. The hold was so strong that it was painful, surely enough to leave more bruises on Tim’s milky skin.

Damian nipped at Tim’s neck before leaning up to drive himself deeper into the boy. Tim sobbed out for Damian, wanting him to come back and finish as he was going to do. The smaller boy writhed against the bed, turning to press his head into the sheets, a hand going down to stroke himself, trying to chase his own pleasure. Tears streamed down his face, all shame thrown out the window while he begged for release.

Damian grabbed his hair, harshly turning him to face the alpha, making Tim yelp at the force. Damian bent down and roughly kissed him, biting his lips and shoving his tongue inside of Tim’s mouth. He kissed Tim until the boy’s swollen lips ached and he was panting. Damian’s hand was at his throat, squeezing. It wasn’t enough to hurt, just enough to be a warning.

“ _Don’t turn away,_ ” Damian raspily commanded, eyes dark with lust as he stared right into Tim’s eyes.

His voice made Tim’s body shake. He had never heard something so raw. It was powerful and terrifying, yet it was also the most sensual thing Tim had ever heard. A deep heat started to coil in his belly.

Tim was _so close._

And so was Damian, Tim knew from how ruthless he had begun to fuck him, his thrusts erratic and quick, changing angles every few thrusts to try and find the perfect spot. He could feel the swelling beginning at the base of Damian’s cock. Tim knew what they both needed to bring themselves over the edge.

“Damian,” Tim pleaded, hands cupping the boy’s heated face.

The alpha removed the hand from his hair and used it to grab his wrists, pinning them above his head. Without any more warning, Damian leaned down and sank his teeth into Tim’s necks, drawing blood immediately. Damian tasted it as it blossomed into his mouth, dripping out the sides of his mouth and rolling down Tim’s neck.

Tim _screamed,_ arching his back off the bed as he felt a rush of euphoria hit him. He was cumming, white ribbons shooting from his cock, staining his hand, feeling the cum being rubbed between their bodies. Damian growled over his broken skin as he felt Tim clenched around him tighter than before.

Tim’s scent flooding his senses, his ass squeezing his cock, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his lower back: all these sensations sent Damian over. His orgasm wracking through his body just moments after Tim’s. White heat blinded him as his hips stuttered as his knot began to form, growing until he could no longer thrust in and out of the omega. Then he himself inside of Tim. He felt his seed soaking his own cock and groaned, becoming sensitive in seconds.

Damian caught himself before he fell on top of Tim, panting heavily over the smaller boy, both trying to catch their breath. Careful not to move to much, Damian tugged them to their sides, so they were both lying face to face on the bed. The Prince pressed a quick kiss to Tim’s brow when he saw how uneasy Tim looked, most likely from the pain of the knot.

“It usually only lasts a couple minutes,” Damian whispered, petting Tim’s sweat dampened hair. “Or so the textbooks say.”

Tim let out a huff of laughter, nuzzling against Damian’s neck.

Damian examined the bite mark on Tim’s neck. The mark didn’t look too bad, it would heal quickly, but it’s smell was still strong. Damian could pick up hints of honey, mint, and what he thought was almond. The scent was intoxicating, Damian wanted to drown in it, to press his nose to the mark and just drink in the scent until he couldn’t smell anyone but Tim ever again.

He knew that part of that desire was from being vulnerable from sex, the other part because marking an omega always made alphas possessive. Damian also knew that the desire would become even stronger if Tim were to mark him. He never would, it was forbidden for a concubine to mark the emperor. It was risky to Damian to even allow Tim to be near his neck just after marking him, knowing that the need to return the mark would almost be at its strongest.

Damian didn’t tell Tim to move, deciding that being marked wouldn’t be the worst thing on earth.

***

They had fallen asleep sometime while lying together, still knotted. Tim woke up a few hours later, a dull ache all over his body, particularly in his neck. As he sat up, he touched the mark on his neck and it burned, still sore. Frowning, he fought back tears while the memories of all that had happened resurfaced.

He had been claimed. Tim had been claimed as a slave by a man who would never love him. Who would force him to have a child and then move on to another slave who he would never love as well. It would be an endless cycle of sexual servitude and birthing unwanted children into a cruel world.

“Timothy?” Damian mumbled sleepily as he blinked at the boy.

Tim pushed his emotions away and smiled the best that he could at the prince.

“Yes, Damian?”

The alpha did not rise but he did reach up his head to caress Tim’s face. The omega nuzzled against it, kissing the palm.

Damian wasn’t all bad.

“I am sorry if I hurt you. If I scared you.”

No, not all bad.

“You didn’t,” Tim murmured against his hand, pecking the fingertips.

Damian smiled at him and Tim felt himself returning the gesture genuinely.

“How is your mark? Does it hurt?”

Tim shook his head. “Not really. It’s a little sore, but only when I touch it.”

“I see.”

There was silence. It was comfortable, but Tim could feel that Damian had something else on the tip of his tongue. Instead of prodding, he just played with the prince’s fingers, lacing them with his own and then bring the hand up for another kiss.

“You do not have to be so affectionate,” Damian said.

Tim stared at him, eyes trying to make out the look on his face in the dark.

“Do you not like it?”

Damian shook his head. “No, I do. But--I do not want you to feel as if you have to be. I understand that this situation is...less than ideal. That is it not your choice.”

Tim fell silent, going completely still. That was not what he was expecting to hear.

Damian, fearing he had done something wrong, sat up. He took his hand away from Tim and scooted away from the boy.

“I am sorry. I know that you probably do not want to hear that from me. I could never truly understand what you are going through,” Damian’s words were soft but rushed.

Tim gently grabbed Damian’s hand, holding it between both of his tightly. He brought it up to his chest, holding it there as he closed his eyes.

“Can I tell you something honestly?”

“Of course,” Damian replied instantly.

“You are not what I expected,” Tim whispered, not knowing why.

“I suppose you expected me to be some evil, selfish prince who would have just used you,” Damian said, it had a hint of defensiveness to it but Tim could still hear the sadness in his voice.

“Somewhat,” Tim kissed his thumb, “Why are you not like that?”

Damian shifted, hand squeezing Tim’s.

“My father,” Damian began.

Tim hummed against his skin, urging him to continue.

Damian sighed. “When I was young, I spent a summer with my father. At the time, I did not know it was him, and he did not know I was his son,” Tim gave Damian a sad look, “Although, I do believe he had his suspicions. We looked eerily similar and while he knew my aunt had a child as I was born, he always seemed to doubt who I was.

“That summer with him, I learned so many things about the world outside my grandfather’s kingdom. I met omegas, who I had been taught were nothing more than slaves, and they ended up becoming like family to me despite how awful I had been to them. My father taught me that people were more than a caste system that all humans were important in their own right. He was the person I had ever known who had ever treated me as an equal, not as a prince, nor an alpha. Just as a human.”

Tim was smiling. “Your father sounds like a great man.”

Damian nodded forlornly. “If not for him and the others, who knows what monster I would have become. I only wish I had known then who he really was to me. Perhaps I would have asked to stay with him,” Damian scowled, his hand clenching into a fist. “Now I am here. Waiting to inherit a kingdom I do not want, going to continue a lifestyle I despise.”

Tim didn’t know what to say. Damian’s story was almost as sad as his. Instead, he asked, “Who is your father?”

“Bruce Wayne.”

Tim let go of Damian’s hand, staring at him in utter shock. Damian nodded as if he knew Tim would react so.

Tim decided right then that he was going to escape, even if he had to die trying.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim meets an old friend, breaks four rules, goes into heat, and breaks some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to post this FOUR times and I am so TIRED!
> 
> Anyways, this story is unbeta'd bc my edits got deleted and I really don't feel like editing again tonight, I'm sorry. I'll try and go over it tomorrow, but please feel free to point out mistakes (and if anyone would like to beta for me I would marry them). 
> 
> Also, I had facts for this universe and chapter but I'm too tired to remember them right now so I'll probably add them later or in other chapters. But you can always ask if you wanna know.

_People pray to each other. The way I say "you" to someone else,_

_respectfully, intimately, desperately. The way someone says_

_"you" to me, hopefully, expectantly, intensely ..._

_—Huub Oosterhuis_

_-_ Jean Valentine, _Sanctuary_

 

Tim has not spoken to Damian since the first night they spent together. When he awoke the next morning, body throbbing from the night’s activities and mind spinning with questions he was too scared to ask Damian before. A eunuch had come to retrieve him from the chambers so they could be cleaned, taking him to the seraglio to change before breakfast.

He could barely eat, too absorbed in his own thoughts, but no one asked him about his mostly uneaten plate when he excused himself from the dining table. He had probably not been the first concubine who had no appetite the morning after.

Tim spent the rest of his day reading in the garden, watching the eunuchs tend to a wide variety of flowers. His only interactions were brief conversations about what flowers were in the garden and a curt discussion of what he would like for lunch, which he declined politely, insisting that he could wait until dinner. The servants still brought him tea and snacks throughout the day despite his many comments about not being hungry.

He ate half of his dinner and then retired to his chambers, where he continued to read in his room until he fell asleep.

The next day he ate more, and decided to read in the common area instead of his room.

The day after that, he offered to help garden, and the eunuchs reluctantly agreed. He even swam.

By the third day, he almost had routine. Swim in the morning, eat a light breakfast, read until lunch, garden until dinner, swim again, and fall asleep after finishing whatever book he had started that day.

Tim had read nearly fifteen books by the next week. Luckily, the library was very expansive, and he knew it was only one library of the ten in the palace alone. Still, books only provided him with so much of an escape from his life. Even the television he had dared to turn on--he was right, there was only DVDs and they were all foreign films, some of which without subtitles--couldn’t help him take his mind off of the conversation he had with Damian.

_Damian._

Tim had not heard from him since their night together. He understood that Damian was busy and that they were expected to maintain a level of distance from each other, especially in public, but he still thought the Prince would at least have visited him once to check on Tim. They weren’t friends, they barely knew one another, yet Tim couldn’t help but feel a sense of betrayal at the complete avoidance on Damian’s part.

The omega had caught a glimpse of him one night, speaking to someone in the hallway outside of the seraglio. Tim remembered that Damian’s room was now adjacent to his, for convenience. He had cracked the door open, making sure to remain silent, as he watched the dark figures of the pair, Damian frowning, his posture tense, but he didn’t seem to be arguing with other.

“...when are we to expect it?” Tim heard Damian whisper.

“Mid-summer. July or August, most likely,” Came the curt reply. Tim noted the femininity presented in the other’s voice. He daringly took a deep inhale, trying to detect a smell from the person, hoping to narrow down their caste.

It was so subtle Tim doubted he had smelled it. The person had almost no smell, like a eunuch, but just enough that Tim believed them to be either an alpha. The scents were strong, earthy, smelling of raw power like Damian and his grandfather, but it was just so faint. As if they were concealing themselves.

Tim knew alphas in the United States took suppressants, but he doubted that would be condoned in Nanda Parbat. At least not without reason.

“Will you keep it?” Damian asked, his voice collected but still concerned.

“Do we have a choice?” Shot back the other alpha.

A long moment of silence followed. Tim could feel the tension and felt bad for eavesdropping. He was about to shut the door when the person spoke again.

“She says it feels like a beta,” The voice was soft, solemn. _Sad._

Tim understood then. Someone was having a child, most likely that alpha with their partner. Tim wondered why it was a bad thing, and why it was being brought to Damian’s attention. Perhaps it was his friend? Maybe it was unplanned and they were coming for advice. Tim didn’t think someone of the royal court would be so careless, but he knew that desire was a hard thing to fight, that it did things to people.

He knew that first hand now.

“Let us pray that she is right.”

“Damian,” Tim raised his eyebrows at the informal address, “If it isn’t, if the child- _our_ child-is something else--I don’t know if we can make it. If it’s an alpha it will be used like I am, another soldier, a pawn of the state. And, if not, the if the child is an omega--” The person sounded like they were choking on their own words.

Tim wanted them to continue. What did happen to an omega child born to the court? Sandra had never told him and he had never thought to ask.

“It will be fine.” Damian didn’t sound as reassuring as he surely wanted to. Tim frowned, wishing he could help the other person, and Damian.

“Will it?”

Tim did not hear another word spoken, just a long sigh and the fading of footsteps. He watched Damian pinch the bridge of his nose before entering his room.

Tim did not sleep well that night.

That was the only time he saw the Prince.

***

It had been nearly two weeks since the night in the hallway and Tim was beginning to feel anxious.

Late at night he had began to feel a tightening sensation in his lower abdomen, as if his organs were contracting, making room for what was coming. He knew the feeling, had felt it many times over the years since his first at the age of thirteen. Tim laid in bed with his hands over his stomach as he watched the night sky fade from inky black to a mauve purple as the sun rose.

His heat was approaching.

Tim did not swim that morning and refused breakfast, instead heading straight for the gardens. There, he found Kiran, who he had spoken only once to in his weeks here, and strode over to where she was watering the rose bushes.

“My heat is coming,” He stated as soon as she was in earshot. The boy stood beside her, watching as her eyes widened while she processed the information.

“How long, sire?”

Tim pondered, thinking about how long it usually took for the heat to hit him fully. “A day or two, three at most. I felt the early symptoms last night but didn’t say anything.”

Kiran nodded, setting the pitcher aside.

“Come, sir, I will take you to the doctor so he can give us a better estimate,” She said, leading the way without checking to see if he was following.

The doctor was at the front of the palace, near the main hall. The office was small, only a handful of chairs to sit in while waiting. Tim guessed he didn’t have a lot of patient.

“This doctor only oversees those pregnant or with children,” Kiran told him while they waited. “He oversees servants and concubines, with the exception of a few lower ranking members of the royal court.”

“Ah, how long has he been here?” Tim was desperate for conversation, even if it was about prenatal doctors.

Kiran thought. “I would say at least twenty five years, maybe thirty. I know that he was the one who delivered my siblings and I.”

Tim perked up at the mention of her life. “How many siblings do you have?”

Kiran looked like she had regretted telling Tim about herself. She bit her lip, contemplating if she should allow herself to tell him anymore, but his face was too hopeful and Tim knew she was just as lonely as he was. Sighing, she relented.

“Four. Two older, one younger.”

“Girls? Boys?”

“All girls.”

Tim smiled, “Do they live here too?”

Kiran stiffened noticeably, eyes locked onto the plant in the corner of the room.

“No. I am...the only one,” She sounded distant, like she was living in a memory Tim couldn’t see. He wanted to ask her where they were, if there were any like her, but was interrupted by the opening of a door.

“Come see me again next week to run some tests. As of now, I place your due date somewhere between July thirtieth to August fifth.”

A blonde woman stepped through the door, smiling up at the doctor.

“Wait here, sire,” Kiran said, walking over to the doctor.

Tim gazed at the blonde woman while he headed towards the door, unable to take his eyes of her hair. It seemed familiar, too much so. He couldn’t see much of her face through her bangs but he could make out a small smile as she walked, one of secret happiness. Tim remembered seeing one like that on a friend he once knew. He smelled the air, hopeful to catch her scent. When he couldn’t, he took a daring leap of faith and called out to the woman.

“Steph?”

The blonde stopped, whipping her head to the side to stare at him. He smile vanished in a second

“Tim,” Her eyes went comically wide as she breathed his name. “Oh my god, Tim!”

Before he could stop her, Stephanie had him wrapped in a vice-like hug.

“I’m so happy,” She muttered into his shoulder. Tim stroked her hair, its softness bringing him to silent laughter in the night and dusty couches bathed in the warm hues of sunsets. She smelt like mint, daffodils, and just a touch of oak. Something new, but still so similar. If not for the new scent, Tim might have forgot where he was. Steph just smelt so much like a home he hadn’t been too in years. She smelt like youth, like a family he ached for.

All too soon, she was drawing back, arms length away with her hands still clutching his shoulders.

“I never thought I would see you again!”

Tim rubbed her wrists, his face broken in two with a wide smile. “Me either! Steph, why are you here? I thought you were given to Sandra’s daughter, the one in China?”

“I was! But we ended up coming here just a year afterwards, you see she’s-”

“Miss Brown, not to interrupt, but the young sir here is due for a very appointment,” Weighed in the doctor, peering at them from the door.

Tim tensed, wondering if they would get in trouble for speaking to one another. Stephanie paid no mind, carefree as always, instead focusing on Tim’s stomach.

“Are you?”

Tim shook his head. “No, no. I’m here for, uh, for something to do with my upcoming heat.”

“Ah,” Steph nodded, “I see. Well, hope all goes well! I know your heats are usually hell.” Stephanie winked as him knowingly.

“Miss Brown,” Came the doctor’s voice, warning.

Stephanie frowned but let go. “I guess I do need to let you go. I have things to do anyway.” She gave him a small smile before hugging him one last time.

“Meet me in the kitchens tonight. I know which wing you’ll be in.”

Before Tim could ask her more, she was exiting the room.

“Sire,” called the doctor, “Please, step into my office.”

Tim did, watching the door the whole time.

***

The office was plain, white and sterile. A desk for the doctor to sit at, charts piled all over it, along with a couple of trinkets. Tim sat on the examination table, a cold steel slab with thin sheet paper covering it. Kiran waited in the corner of the room nearest Tim, eyes focused on a chart displaying the birthing cycles of omegas.

“When did you start feeling symptoms?” The doctor asked right away, taking a seat in the red swivel chair at the desk.

“Last night.”

“Anything unusual?”

“No. Just shifting, a dull throbbing.”

He drew a blank chart from one of the piles. “Cramping?”

“A little. Nothing too bad.”

Humming, he flicked the pen against the chart.

“Age?”

“Twenty.”

“Birth-date?”

“June nineteenth, 1997.”

“Height?”

“Five six.”

“Weight?”

“One hundred and twenty five pounds, give or take a few pounds.”

Tim waited while the man scribbled words across the paper.

“Ever been pregnant?”

“No, sir.”

The man looked at him, “You don’t need to call me sir.”

Tim tried not to blush. “Okay, um-”

“Ismail. Ismail Gadhi.”

“Okay, Mr.Gadhi.”

The doctor smiled, returning to his chart.

“Ever been mated?”

“No.”

Ismail continued writing. Tim tried to see what he was jotting down but the man was too far and his handwriting was awful.

“I’m going to do a simple check up, alright? Make sure you’re all good to go for mating.”

Tim nodded, sitting upright as the doctor came closer, a couple of instruments in hand. He waited as he was prodded, poked, and pinched. Tim tried to discreetly get a whiff of the doctor to detect his caste. The smell was weak, something mundane and unremarkable, like the scent of pond water, but still there, classifying him as a beta.

Close up, Tim was given a detailed view of the doctor’s features. His copper skin had wrinkles by his eyes and on his forehead, his mouth drooping slightly while he looked at Tim’s ears, a frown line set into his skin. His dark hair was greying on the sides and had a few strands littered through the middle as well. Grey eyes gazed into Tim’s as he flashed a light into them, eyes that looked tired but had a glint of joy left in them. Tim knew the man wasn’t young by any means but something told him that Ismail was far from old.

“Any sensitivity?” Ismail asked as he rubbed Tim’s glands which were beginning to present themselves.

Tim shrugged. “It’s there but barely. They usually become more sensitive around the second to third day.”

The man hummed, checking the ones on his wrists as well. “I see the mark on your neck, it looks like it’s still healing, am I correct?”

Tim’s face flushed at that, the memories of his night with Damian resurfacing.

“Yes. I was given it-,” _Was forced to take it,_ He wants to say“-about two weeks ago.”

Ismail said nothing, just nodded.

After checking the omega’s heartbeat and the issue around his stomach, the doctor stepped back and smiled.

“All is working well. You are perfectly healthy so there should be no problems during your heat. Although, please do inform me if anything changes--if you start feeling any strong pains or begin bleeding, etceteria,” He rolled his hand for emphasis, “ I believe you know how this works by now.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Spoke Kiran before Tim could. She ushered him off the table and to the doctor, bowing to the doctor. Before they left, Tim could swear he heard the man whisper _good luck_ behind them.

***

Tim picked at his dinner. Kiran has escorted him back to his room, where he was instructed to stay in bed until lunch. She had left him alone but Tim didn’t mind, he had plenty to think about. His head was running circles all day, even during lunch, flipping from Kiran’s family, to Stephanie’s promise, to the discussion he had heard that night. So much to mull over, to obsess himself with. To distract.

He wondered mostly about the connection between Stephanie and Damian’s mysterious friend. Tim was almost certain that the friend was the person Steph was having her baby with. There was too many coincidences: the due date, the new _alpha_ smell Steph had, the fact that she was even there at all.

The only difference appeared to be their attitudes toward the pregnancy. Stephanie seemed happy when talking about it. She could have been faking but Tim had never known her to falsify her emotions, even in situations where it could have cost her her life, so he doubted that she would be putting on such a smile for a child she didn’t want.

That was something Tim didn’t understand, either. Stephanie had been given away two years prior to him, promised to Sandra’s daughter as a reward for her presenting as an alpha. When she left, Steph had been appalled by the idea of being given to anyone, even if she had been told that Sandra’s daughter was very respectable and held a high status.

Tim had received one letter from her after she was taken. It had told him that her life wasn’t ideal but it wasn’t bad, and that the alpha she was with was nice, if a little odd. He had read her name but it was too far back for him to recall. Something with a C, if he was correct.

“Sire, are you not feeling well?” A eunuch asked him.

Tim blinked, noticing he hadn’t touched his food at all.

“Sorry, my head just hurts, is all,” He mumbled, shoveling a forkful of salad in his mouth.

The eunuch looked troubled by this, blue eyes furrowing at the brow. “Would you like some medicine, sir? Or perhaps I should fetch the doctor?”

Tim shook his head. “No, I think I am just tired from not getting adequate sleep last night,” He set down his utensils, taking another sip of juice, “I’m going to retire early tonight.” And then he was leaving to go to his room, to think more about what he had learned today.

And how he was going to make it to the kitchens tonight.

***

He waits until all the lights are killed before he dares to creep out into the hallway. Tim carries no lantern, afraid that the light might attract attention. He knows that there are guards stationed outside on the terrace and at the entrance of the wing. The al Ghul’s believed that if you were murdered in your sleep that you were weak and therefore deserved death. Only the weak left themselves and their concubines defenseless, even while sleeping.

The guards at the end of the hall would be easy, the kitchens were in the middle and he wouldn’t even have to go near the entrance. The terrace guards were harder but not by much. They faced away from him on the opposite side of the hall, the glass doors muffling his already silent footsteps and the thick curtains concealing him in the dark. Once past, he tiptoed the rest of the way to the kitchen door, wincing as it creaked and slipping inside.

Moonlight illuminated the silver surfaces around the room, allowing just enough reflective light for Tim to see where he was walking. In the far right corner, he saw a shifting shadow as it fell back into the darkness.

Cautiously, he spoke. “Steph?” He hoped his voice carried enough to cross the room.

The shadow stiffened before it slowly crept into the light. Tim awaited blonde hair and a glimmering smile, but was surprised to see a pair of pitch black eyes blink at him instead.

“How do you know Stephanie?” The eyes pierced him as they spoke, breaking his skin open, leaving him bleeding fear and hesitation.

Swallowing thickly, he replied, “She’-she’s my friend. I was told to meet her here.”

The eyes squinted. “Are you Timothy?”

Too scared to speak, he nodded.

“Come.” The eyes vanished, the shadowy figure disappearing behind the door that led into the dining room.

He debated whether it was too late to run back to his room, perhaps even Damian’s, and tell him that someone was sneaking around the castle at night. But the figure knew Steph, knew him, and it was too risky to tell Damian he had left his room unattended, even if his gut said that Damian wouldn’t reprimand him.

So Tim followed.

Tim carefully slipped through the door, finding himself in dining room, which was much brighter due to the large windows that stretched from one end to the other.

“Tim!” He heard someone say. The boy saw a hand waving to him from the end of the table and smiled as he noticed the slender arm and tanned skin.

“Steph,” He called out as he ran over.

Steph was crouched beside the table. She waved to him and he knelt beside her.

She smiled, hugging him briefly.“Did you meet Cass?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Cass?”

“Me.”

Suddenly a hand gripped his shoulder and Tim was shaking, desperately holding back a scream that was just behind his quivering lips.

“Hi,” He finally croaked when the hand let him go.

The shadowy figure-Cass-crouched by Stephanie, wrapping an arm protectively around the omega’s waist. “Hello,” She said, those black eyes scrutinizing him harshly. She was covered head to toe in black, a hood and lower face mask shrouded almost all her features aside from her eyes.

“Tim, this is Cass, my mate. I wrote about her to you in the letter I sent you,” Steph commented as if it was something he should have known.

“Yeah, a letter from two years ago,” He whispered back, a little aggressively. Cass glared at him.

“Sorry, I forgot how long it’s been,” Steph chuckled, placing a hand on Cass’s knee. “Anyways,” Her tone was serious, something Tim didn’t hear very often, and it sent a chill down his spine, “Tim, I called you here to tell you about what’s happened with me.”

“You’re pregnant,” He supplied.

Steph nodded, eyes staring straight into his. It was eerily intense.

“I am. But there’s more,” She sighed, settling onto her haunches. “Let me start from the beginning. Cass,” The other stood, kissing her cheek before disappearing to the shadows again. “She’ll be our lookout,” Steph reassured him.

“Where have you been? Who is she? The other parent?” Tim had a million questions dying to be answered.

Steph shushed him with a single finger pressed against his lips. “Wait.”

Begrudgingly, Tim nodded.

“The alpha, Sandra’s daughter,” Steph began.

“Yes?”

“It was Cass.”

“Okay,” Tim drew out quizzically, “I guessed that much myself.”

Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Anyways, Cass-Cassandra-was who I was given to. It would have been awful but the thing was that I knew her!”

Tim gawked. “What?”

“Okay, when we were kids in Gotham, Cass came over one summer with another kid. I met her at a park one day and we hit it off real well and became friends. We met every week at that park until she had to leave,” Steph smiled, most likely at the memories of her childhood. “When she left, she told me she would find me again and we would be together forever.”

“Romantic,” Tim deadpanned, earning a punch to the shoulder.

“So fast forward a couple years, after the whole my asshole dad selling me and all that, and suddenly Sandra takes a liking in me. Which I didn’t get. You, you were smart and adaptive and had like the ‘perfect’-” she did quotation marks “-‘omega body’ so I got her interest in you. But I was foul mouthed and untameable so it didn’t make sense. And then it did. See, she picked me up because she remembered my name from Cassandra.”

Tim wrinkled his brow. “She had Sandra pick you up?”

“No, no, no. Cass never knew what business her mom was in so she didn’t think anything of it when she was little. Anyway, Sandra picked me up and when we finally reached China, she shipped me to Cass. It was a big surprise to both of us when I ended up on her doorstep during one of her private missions.”

“Private missions?”

“Damn it, Tim, I will get there just _listen._ ”

Tim huffed but shut his mouth.

“So I show up and it’s awkward. For a long time we didn’t speak. But then I have my heat and I can’t think and so I end up in her bed begging for help. She does, but she never, like, does anything.”

Tim lifted his arms in confusion. Steph chewed her lips, eyes darting around the room.

“She never knotted me, okay! Which I didn’t get because I thought all alphas went into ruts and couldn’t control themselves around omegas.”

 _That’s what we’re taught,_ Tim thought.

“But the thing is, that’s not that true. It is if neither the omega or the alpha are on suppressants, but even then I heard that the alpha has to be in close proximity to the omega for it to be uncontrollable like that. Luckily, Cass was on these weird experimental suppressants that made him almost a beta with her lack of smell and presentation.”

Tim thought of the discussion between Damian and, who he presumed now, Cass.

“Anyways, after about a year of that and becoming friends again, we actually started developing feelings. Eventually we even became mates,” She touched her neck, where Tim knew a mark would be, “Despite that she was warned by Sandra not to do it because of her job.

“The thing is, with the suppressants she takes, they also make it hard to conceive. So when we did begin actually mating we didn’t worry about pregnancy. Well, you see how that turned out,” She motioned to her belly. “I, for one, am happily surprised. Maybe that’s the old world omega in me but I can’t wait for this damn baby to come. Cass, is...concerned.”

“Why?”

Sighing, she went on, “Cass works as the Prince’s personal bodyguard and confidant. Essentially, she’s his best friend. But she’s also a soldier, and her life belongs to the court. She’s worth more than most servants but she’s still expendable to them. She worries that if the child is an alpha then they will be subjected to the same fate as she is, just another pawn in the Demon’s chest game.”

“And if they’re not?”

“If the kid’s a beta then they’ll just be a servant or something else, like me.”

“And if they’re an omega? If they’re like us?”

Stephanie’s eyes fell to the floor. Her hands fiddled with the ends of her golden hair as she worried her lip even more.

“You don’t know,” She breathed.

Tim shook his head. “Know what?”

“Tim,” His name sounded so sad on her tongue, “If any omega child is born, even those born to the court, that child is given to masters who will prepare them to be royal concubines, that’s if they make the cut and don’t die beforehand.”

Silence rang out through the room. Tim stared at her in disbelief, shaking, mouth agape. A sudden rush of panic struck him. _Run,_ said the voice in his head, _run far away._ He might have appeased the voice if Stephanie hadn’t set a hand on his leg, grounding him.

“No,” was all he could say.

“Tim,” Steph cupped his face, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “Tim, if this child is an omega, if I think even for a second that our child’s safety is compromised, we are going to leave.”

Tim couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. “Leave?”

“Run,” She clarified, “We have been planning an escape for awhile. Cass wanted to stay to protect Damian but even she can’t bear the thought of having to give up our child to some monsters. Even if the child does end up beta like we hope, it would only be a matter of time until we would leave. I won’t raise a child in a place like this, not for long.”

Tim couldn’t speak so he grabbed her hands, nuzzling into them in an attempt to comfort one of them. Steph pulled him into a hug. He smelled her against, noticing how this time he could smell a milky note from her skin.

Their moment was ruined by the opening of a door.

“Who’s there?” Came a loud voice, echoing throughout the room.

Both of the omegas tensed in place, staying as still as possible.

“Show yourselves before I alert the guards!”

Tim recognized the voice. Summoning his courage, he pulled away from Stephanie, holding a shivering finger to his lips before he stood. Hands up, he kicked his foot to the left, eyes flicking to the kitchen’s door. Steph shook her head, her eyes pleading with him.

“Who are you?”

Tim slowly turned around, ignoring the tugs on his robes. “It’s me, _Damain.”_ Tim stressed the name in effort to appear casual, letting the Prince believe they were alone.

“Timothy?” Damian called, and Tim did not miss the glint of metal as Damian sheathed his sword. “What are doing in the dining room?”

Tim kicked his foot and felt a breath of relief escape him as Stephanie finally began to crawl under the table and toward the door.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said, walking towards Damian with his head hung low. “I--I was hungry. I haven’t been eating lately and the hunger had finally caught up with me. I was hoping to sneak some food back to my room.”

Damian studied him as if he didn’t fully believe his lie. Tim admitted it wasn’t his best line but it was the only convincible option he could come up with under the circumstances. Regardless, Damian accepted it.

“You could have asked a servant, Timothy. You are not a prisoner.”

 _No, I’m a slave,_ Tim wanted to retort. Instead, he provided a bashful smile to the alpha.

“I did not want to trouble anyone.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Keeping you healthy is not troubling. Almost attacking you because you are too diffident to ask for necessities is troubling.”

“I’m sorry,” Tim apologized once more.

Shaking his head, the Prince replied, “Enough. Come with me.”

Damian’s hand reached out to him, Tim gazed at it for a second before sheepishly taking it in his own.

“Where are we heading?” Tim asked as he was led to the dining room door. He caught a glimpse of gold fluttering out the corner of his eye.

“My quarters.”

Tim almost stopped in his tracks. “Isn’t that forbidden?”

Damian shrugged. “You have already broken three rules tonight, what is one more?”

***

Damian’s quarters were more modest than Tim imagined. They were larger than Tim’s own room but smaller than the whole of the seraglio. A king sized bed with dark furs and sheets lay near the glass doors that opened to a balcony, the curtains flapping restlessly in the breeze outside. Opposite the bed was a desk fitting snugly to the wall, it’s surface covered in parchment and pencils of varying colors, sketches obscured by the dark to make them unrecognizable. Above the desk was a sheathed sword suspended from two hooks. Tim wondered if it was more than just purely decorational.

Beside the desk was what Tim assumed to be a small mini fridge, the only modern piece of furniture Tim had observed in the room. Damian made his way over to it, dropping low and prying the small door open, retrieving a water bottle and a cup filled with multiple layers of different foods.

“Would you like any nuts with your parfait?” Damian asked, craning his neck to look behind the fridge’s door.

“Uh, sure,” Tim amused with the question, picturing Damian in a waiter's uniform asking him if he would also care for a side of freshly baked scones.

Damian _hn’d_ at him before grabbing a little plastic bag of assorted nuts and shutting the door. They remained silent while Damian tore the plastic with his teeth, spitting the broken off piece on his desk as he scattered nuts over the dessert, fishing a spoon from a drawer in the desk. Tim held back a comment about Damian hiding silverware in his desk even if the thought made his lips curl.

“Here,” Damian thrust the parfait and water at him. Tim mumbled his thanks as he took the offerings.

Tim felt Damian’s eyes on him while he ate. It was uncomfortable to say the least. A sense of unease passed over him with each bite, turning the sweet flavors in his mouth sour. Damian stood with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes unmoving from Tim, mouth pressed in a thin line, appearing impartial as ever. There was no discernable judgement in his look but Tim still felt like he should be apologizing again.

The silence becoming suffocating, Tim tried to start conversation between bites.

“This is really good,” He complimented, stuffing a big spoonful in his mouth for emphasis, and to hurry the awkward experience along.

Damian nodded curtly.

“Do you always keep food stocked in your room or was tonight an exception?”

“I also get late night cravings.” Again, unmoving and terse.

The food was starting to lose its flavor.

“Do you enjoy the new room?”

“It is efficient.”

Tim was starting to lose his mind.

“What’s the story behind the sword,” He tilted his head in the direction of the hanging weapon.

Damian did not look. “A family heirloom. It belonged to my grandfather’s family.”

“Okay,” Tim tried not to sound frustrated. He didn’t remember Damian being this difficult to talk to their first night together. “What about the drawings? A hobby?”

Another unimpressed shrug. “Something to do in my spare time.”

“Most people just watched television. Which, I noticed you don’t have one.”

“I have no need for such useless entertainment.” Tim wanted to frown, pursing his lips around the spoon in his mouth as he swirled the almost bitter custard in his mouth. Damian added, as if sensing his displeasure, “There are no good channels anyway. I have seen every worthwhile movie we own at least a hundred times each as well.” Now that was an answer Tim could understand.

“What about the books? I’m working through the ones in the library,” Tim wanted to tell Damian that he was done with the first shelf already, some twisted sense of competition stirring inside him, brought upon by Damian’s aloofness.

“I have read through them all.” Tim felt a pang of annoyance, eyebrow twitching. Of course Damian would have read them all, even the ones in languages Tim had yet to learn.

“You are more than welcome to peruse my personal collection if the libraries books become lackluster,” Damian turned his head to look out the window, “I am aware that most of the books kept in the main libraries are old and provide little satisfaction.”

Tim smiled, teeth peeking around the silverware in his mouth. “I thought long, boring books would be your thing.”

Damian glared at him but it didn’t feel mad, irked if best. “Even I take pleasure in contemporary reads. Classics are fine to learn from, some are even enjoyable, but once you have read _The Art of War_ or the _Iliad_ a dozen times over, they become less entertaining.”

“ _The Odyssey_ is good.” Tim remembered reading the old paperback book when he was fifteen after a trip to Greece. “Sandra had me read it to teach me a lesson about perseverance. ‘Despite the odds against him, Odysseus never once abandoned his mission,’ she told me. I guess she wanted to instill some sense of duty in me.”

“Did it work?” Damian eyed him earnestly.

Tim shrugged. “I’ve broken about a dozen rules tonight so you tell me.”

Damian’s lips quirked up, huffing out something almost like laughter. “You’ve only broken three, not a dozen.”

“Ever heard of exaggeration?”

“Make that four.”

The two boys stared at each other, almost smiling, a peace between them. Comfortable silence settled over them as Tim ate the rest of his food.

Damian took the cup from him, placing it in his bathroom sink, shrugging Tim off when he asked if he wanted to clean it. Tim drank from the water bottle, watching as Damian rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, exposing his forearms, copper skin shining the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom.

Tim could feel a coiling in his stomach, as if someone was twirling his entrails around their fingers. It continued to tighten, forcing Tim to wince at the pain of it. He wrote it off as cramps, they got worse as he got closer to the beginning of his heat. It was nothing he couldn’t handle. Medicine would help but he doubted Damian carried anything strong enough on him, and Tim didn’t want to pay the doctor a midnight visit--especially unaccompanied. Or worse, with Damian in tow.

When a dull throbbing began in his head, Tim clenched his eyes shut, diverting his attention to maintaining a steady breathing pattern. _It will pass,_ Tim reminded himself, _It’ll only last a couple of minutes._ Flash headaches weren’t uncommon during preheat, but it had still been awhile since Tim had experienced them on this level.

Hoping to distract from the pain, Tim engaged in conversation.

“What are your favorites?” His words came out a little stilted and Tim prayed Damian would perceive it as self-conscious behavior.

“Favorite what?” Damian raised an eyebrow as he put the cup to dry on a washrag.

“Books. The ones from your personal collection.” Tim struggled to look at Damian normally.

“Oh,” Damian touched his bottom lip, pondering, “I suppose all of them would be my favorites, since they are part of my collection.” Tim would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t busy trying not to close him. “Although, I do have a few I have never grown tired of revisiting.”

Tim gripped the post of the bed as casually as he could. “And those are?”

“Funnily enough, The Odyssey is perhaps my favorite of Homer’s classics,” Damian sounded almost embarrassed by admitting this.

Tim wanted to laugh, he really did. Instead, he snapped his mouth shut, teeth biting his tongue, and face contorting in pain. Another sharp stab pierced through his midsection and Tim all but yelped.

“Timothy?” Damian’s worrying tone was lost on Tim, who was too busy trying to keep himself upright. “Are you okay?”

Hesitant hands settled on his shoulders, shaking him.

And then Tim felt it. Dripping out of him, running down his thighs, dampening his robes. The sensation caused him to shiver as the slick leaked out of him. The room was hot, unbearably so, and Tim’s whole body felt like it was being licked by the flames of hell. Damian’s hands felt like they were burning through his clothes and Tim wanted him to rip them off, anything to cool him down, anything to make the pain stop.

Damian sniffed, head tilting as he pressed his nose closer to Tim’s neck. A whine erupted from his throat, craning to expose his neck to Damian. The need stronger with their bond half complete. A voice in his head pleading Damian to bite him, to rip him apart and take him _right there._

“You’re in heat.” It was a statement, not a question. And it was made right against Tim’s ear, lips brushing the shell, breath scalding against his skin.

Tim turned his head to capture Damian’s lips. He eagerly consumed Damian, mind fuzzy with desire as he licked in the alpha’s mouth. The other held him fast but didn’t resist the kiss. Tim’s hands searched for purchase on the boy, gripping his arms, his robes, his waist, wanting to hold something close to him, to ground himself in reality.

Damian stopped him once his hands started snaking up under the hem of his shirt.

“Timothy,” Damian breathed against his wet lips, pulling his head away when Tim surged up to kiss him again, “No.”

Tim whimpered, twisting his arms in attempt to release himself from Damian’s hold. His hips bucked up against Damian’s, searching from some kind of friction, already aching and hard.

“Please,” He begged, voice needy. “Damian, _Damian._ Please, I need you. I need you.”

Tim leaned in, kissing the corner of Damian’s mouth, his cheeks, his jawline. The alpha went rigged under the sloppy kisses. Tim slowly began to grind his hips against Damian’s, groaning when he felt the hardening member brush against his thigh.

“Timothy,” Damian’s gritted through his teeth, his composure crumbling, “No. Let me-” Tim sucked on the juncture where his jaw ended, skin sensitive against the incredibly hot mouth- “Let me get a eunuch. The chambers.”

Damian’s breath hitched as Tim nipped at the spot he was sucking on, laving his tongue over the reddening mark.

The alpha’s hands tightened painfully on Tim’s arms, earning a cry from the smaller boy.

“Damian,” Tim pleaded, still grinding himself against the other. “I need this. Need to be fucked, to be knotted. C’mon, I know you want it to. Want to take me. I’m yours. Please, please.” Tim kissed Damian’s knuckles. He just needed to wear him down a little more, just enough to send him into a rut.

“Need you,” Tim mouthed against the skin. “Need you to fuck me again and again. Need you to fill me up.” His tongue trailed over the fingers, down to the wrist, sucking purposefully right next to the scent gland. Tim smiled when he heard Damian moan.

Grip loosening, Damian’s hips began to meet Tim’s thrusts, their lengths working against each other. It wasn’t enough. It was still too hot and his robes were still being soaked. Tim’s mind hazy with want and the scent of Damian pressed so close to him, the mark on his neck irritating him. He nibbled along the gland before he bit down on it, not enough to break the skin, just the right amount of pressure to elicit a reaction.

From his wrist, Tim watched as Damian’s eyes narrowed furiously, his instincts kicking in, some predatory clawing its way out of his body. The alpha growled, snatching his wrist away and using the hand to tangle in Tim’s hair, pulling on it threatening, making it hurt. Tim whined, his freed hand slipping under Damian’s shirt to feel his comparatively cool skin, a sigh of relief dripping from his lips.

The consolation was short lived as the alpha hurled him on the bed. The second Tim’s back hit the mattress, Damian was on top of him, one hand pinning his wrist, the other literally tearing his robes apart to gain access to the boy’s heated, flushing skin. His eyes were wild, pupils blown beyond proportion, teeth bared like an animal about to attack.

“Spread,” Damian demands and Tim fervently complies.

Damian shoves a hand down to his entrance, fingers coating themselves in slick. Without warning, Damian shoves a finger in and Tim moans, hips bucking in the air.

“Yes,” He pants, eyes fluttering shut, “Please, fuck me.”

Damian doesn’t allow him to speak anymore, smashing their mouths together vehemently, teeth clacking and biting down against swollen lips.

Soon two fingers are scissoring inside him, opening him up for the alpha. Tim’ hips begin to thrust wildly so Damian holds them down with a bruising hand, a low growl rumbling in his throat and chest. Tim’s own hands roam Damian’s body, threading through his hair and caressing every inch of skin he can reach. He hikes Damian’s shirt up to his shoulders, dragging his nails carefully down the newly exposed area, eliciting a chilling groan from the younger.

Damian pulls away for only a second to toss his shirt across the room, his hand still working Tim open.

When a third finger enters, Tim wants to cry out, his sounds devoured in Damian’s mouth as his body arches off the bed. _More, more, more,_ his body screams, divided between pleasure and agony.

Damian breaks away from the omega to press sloppy kisses along his neck and chest. A hot mouth engulfs one of Tim’s budding nipples, velvety tongue swirling it around, earning a startled cry. The alpha rips his hand from Tim’s hip to plaster over his mouth. His face looms back over Tim’s, lips temptingly close.

“Quiet,” Is all Damian says before he goes back to Tim’s other nipple, sucking and biting at the sensitive bud.

The only intact part portion of Tim’s brain thinks Damian might be a sadist, asking the boy to be quiet while teasing him so rudely. The other parts of his brain thinks it is the sexiest thing he has ever seen.

Tim peels Damian’s hand away, taking three of the boy’s fingers in his mouth and sucking. He works his tongue between the fingers, wetting them in his saliva and hollowing his cheeks around them--a preview for what might come later. Showing off the skill of his own tongue, and how it could work around something else in his mouth.

Tim looks into Damian’s eyes as he continues licking around his fingers, eyelids hooded in unmistakable lust as he twirls a tongue around the middle finger deliberately. Tim swallows and Damian rasped out a broken _Timothy,_ making the boy tremble.

And just like that, Damian is retracting his fingers and Tim is whining needily at the sudden loss. The emptiness is painful, and, in some misconstrued poetic way, it feels like a piece of him is missing.

“Roll over,” Damian’s voice is dark, sinful, right in his ear. Tim shudders as he complies, turning to lie on his stomach.

Damian pulls his hips up, forcing his face down into the bed and nuding his way in between the omega’s thighs. A hand splays over one of his ass cheeks, kneading it, squeezing the plump flesh until it is an angry red. Then he stretches the cheek apart to stare at the gaping hole that’s twitching in excitement, slick rushing from it and dribbling down Tim’s legs onto the bed.

A finger strokes along his entrance teasingly and Tim backs against it.

Damian takes himself in his hand and aligns himself with the entrance. In one swift motion he plunges inside the boy, burying himself balls deep. Tim bites down into the covers to muffle his scream. Damian does not wait for him to adjust as he begins to thrust into him, deep and hard.

The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet sloshing noises filling both of their minds as Damian fucks him fervidly. He grunts with each thrust and Tim is sobbing, mouth stuff with sheets that smell like Damian.

Damian’s hands are gripping Tim’s hips so hard that bruises are sure to form again. The pain adds to the pleasure, the line so grey and blurry Tim wonders if it exists. It feels like he and Damian are stuck in some sort of limbo between reality and something more.A plane of existence where all there is is a pleasure so pure, so consuming, that he would lose himself to it. He knows that the pain is what keeps him in the moment, aware of Damian and himself.

His hands fist at the sheets beside his head while he rocks himself in time with Damian’s thrusts. The rocking rubs his cock against the bed, creating more friction, a wet spot forming from the precum that leaks out of him. At this point, there isn’t a part of his body that isn’t wet--slick, precum, sweat, all of it dripping off of him.

Damian leans down to lick the nape of his neck and bite at it. The mark on his right side feels like it’s vibrating and a new wave of scents hit him, his own glands swelling, releasing even more pheromones into the air. Damian grumbles something against his skin that sounds like a compliment about how intoxicating he is but Tim can barely hear, too focused on Damian’ scent and his bruising grip and how his cock is fucking him perfectly.

“Timothy,” Damian pants, “You smell--fuck--you smell so good. I can smell myself on you. Can smell me and you--together.”

A shudder wracks over Tim’s body. Damian’s voice is husky and dripping with eroticism.

The alpha fists Tim’s hair, using the hold to hoist the boy up and flush against his chest. Damian’s hips snap faster into him as he sucks onto the omega’s shoulders, arm leaving the dark hair to encircle his waist. Another hand flicks at Tim’s nipples before it’s gripping his throat. He isn’t choking but it’s still possessive and it drives Tim crazy.

“I wish you could feel yourself like I do,” Damian whispers against his skin as he nudges Tim’s legs further apart. “You are so damn tight, so warm. I could spend all my days here, fucking you until you only know how to say my name.”

“Fuck,” Tim breathes, hips grinding down on Damian. The hand on his throat tightening.

Damian bites Tim’s neck, right on the opposite scent gland, and a scream is rippling from Tim’s throat. It is cut short by the harsh hand choking him. Tim sputters, tearing streaming down his cheeks as he tries to moan. Damian licks the fresh mark, blood trickling down his neck, staining Damian’s lips a bright red.

“Dami-” Tim warns, head going dizzy as his oragasm hits him.

White heat fills up his body, overriding his senses while his ass clenches rhythmically, his dick spurts out ribbons of cum onto the bed. Distantly, he feels Damian let up his hold on his throat while he continues fucking him. The alpha holds him upright as he thrusts into the spent omega, hips slamming into him erratically, losing their rhythm as Damian chases his own release. Tim can’t think of words in his state so he just caresses Damian’s arms and cards through his hair as encouragement.

Tim feels the knot growing, the feeling causing a broken moan to spill from his mouth. Damian’s thrust are shallow until he stills completely, the knot fully formed. His head buried in Tim’s shoulder, legs shaking profusely, Damian cums inside the omega. As his cock pulses into Tim’s accepting body, Damian slumps down, taking Tim with him.

They both breath heavily, Damian petting the omega’s hair, Tim twining their fingers together, pressing his lips against red knuckles. He’s vaguely aware of his already hard again member.

During this brief moment of clarity, Tim thinks of Stephanie, pregnant and willing to go on the run for her child. Tim stares down at his own stomach, flat as a board, hopefully, devoid of life. Silently, he sends out a prayer to all gods he can think of.

_Don’t be pregnant._

***

Damian fucks Tim a total of five times before the omega finally passes out. He sleeps beside the alpha on the bed, bags under his eyes and mouth wide open, still knotted to him. Damian combs his hands through the older’s sweat slick hair gently, not wanting to disturb him. He glances down to where they’re joined, frowning at how red Tim was, his flesh a frightening color that reflected just how rough they had been.

He had taken the omega on the desk, the floor, the bathtub, and even once on the balcony when it become stuffy inside the room. Tim had begged him each time, knowing just how to coax him, using the right words and touching him in all the right spots. Damian wanted to stop so they could do it properly, knew that it was risky for them to be together in his room, let alone for them to be mating in it, but Tim hushed his fears, fighting them away with languid kisses and greedy hands.

As the knot softens, Damian begins to pull out of Tim. He uses an already dirty blanket--which could be any blanket at this point--to clean up the semen from Tim’s belly, careful not to touch the sensitive member. He tosses the blanket away and stands, cringing at how shaky his legs are.

Retrieving their clothes, he dresses Tim and himself before sweeping the older boy up in his arms. Tim nuzzles against Damian’s chest while the alpha carries him across the hall and into the seraglio. Once inside Tim’s room, Damian makes quick work to tuck the boy in and make his exit before he is caught. Returning to his room, Damian begins cleaning despite the ache in his bones.

He soaks the sheets in the bath, scrubbing until he is sure the evidence is sufficiently gone. Then he lights an incense to mask the scent, thanking the gods he lit them often enough it would not be called into question. Aftering hanging the bed sheets to dry on the balcony and tidying up his desk, Damian rests on his barren bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wonders if it is enough, if they will not be found out. A tinge of fear strikes his heart, more afraid for Timothy than himself, but he kills it before it can fully fester.

‘Fear begets failure,’ his mother had told him when he was younger. It was one of her lessons Damian still held onto.

He shuts his eyes and in minutes he is asleep.

***

Tim is woken up by someone shaking his shoulders warily. His body is tender but still burning, blood boiling under his skin.

“Sire,” the voice echoes in his head, “Sire, you are in heat. We must take you to the chambers.”

The Mating Chambers. Tim’s cock twitches at the memories of his and Damian’s first night. Damian’s voice, his hands rubbing Tim just right, his mouth wet and inviting over his body. Tim sobs, hips bucking into the air.

He _wants_ Damian.

“Sir, please. If you stand, I will take you to the chambers,” He recognizes the voice, so soft and pleading, but his mind is clouded with Damian and he can’t place who it belongs to.

“Damian,” He breathes out.

The hands on his shoulder are pulling him up. “Yes, we have already told His Highness. He is waiting there.”

That is all Tim needs to know to get him moving. He is up and out of bed, nearly running for the room.

“Sire!” The voice calls behind him. He ignores it, but regrets the decision immediately as his knees buckle, weak.

“Sir, allow me,” A gentle hand pulls him to his feet, warm body pressing against his as they guide him. Tim turns his head and observes them. A eunuch. A woman. Kiran.

Realizing their identity, Tim rests his weight against the familiar hold, thinking back to his bath and Kiran’s soft touches as she washed him with the others.

They enter the seraglio and Tim sees that it is early in the morning, the sun just barely above the horizon outside. Kiran all but carries him out into the hall and down it, knocking on the door to the Mating Chambers. It is answered before the second knock and he is fiercely tugged into the room before Kiran can speak.

Tim clings to Damian, who is already undressed, hungrily crushing their lips together. Damian snakes his arms around Tim and lifts the boy up, Tim’s legs folding behind his lower back. They walk to the bed, never once pulling apart from the other as Damian sets him down and spreads his legs, nestling himself between them. He fumbles with the shoddily tied robes, hiking them up to expose Tim’s length and tugging on it. Tim lets out a gratuitos moan against Damian’s lips.

That moan fades into a gasp as Damian shoves himself into the omega, still loose from last night’s session. Tim’s nails rake down his back, leaving angry stripes of red in their wake and Damian hisses at the pain while he takes Tim hard and fast.

Tim hooks a leg around Damian’s waist, his other behind his thigh, craving for something deeper. Damian has a fistful of his hair in his hand, the other one still stroking Tim. Their lips mash together frantically, as if this is both the first and last time they will ever kiss, their teeth catching on each other’s lips and tongues exploring every crevice they can reach, rolling over one another more than once.

Tim is coming in minutes, nails digging into Damian’s shoulders as he does. Damian follows him moments later, knot stretching the boy for the sixth time, his face nuzzling the fresh mark on Tim’s neck. Both are catching their breath still as the swelling lessens and Damian can finally pull out.

It’s exhilarating, quick, and Damian wonders in the back of his mind if somehow they developed separation anxiety after being apart for only a few hours.

“Good morning,” Damian murmurs as he reaches for the bottle on the bedside table, taking a swig before passing it to Tim, who is chuckling beneath him. “What?”

“We just had sex and now you’re telling me good morning,” Tim laughs, drinking. Damian frowns, and Tim continues. “It’s a little late for formalities, don’t you think?”

“There is no specific time for courtesy, Timothy,” Damian counters. Tim rolls his eyes and hands the bottle back.

He pulls the younger boy down, forcing Damian to clamber onto the bed with him, laying beside Tim. The omega begins to play with his hair as they wait for the next wave to come. The second day will be easier, but clarity during heats does not last long.

“Are you okay?” Damian asks, rubbing soothing patterns on Tim’s stomach.

Tim shrugs. “My body’s meant to handle a lot.”

Damian pats his belly, “Timothy, are you okay or not?”

“Damian,” Tim mocks, “I just told you--”

“I am not just asking about your body.”

Tim is silent. Damian stills his hand, uncertain if the action is helping or furthering his discomfort. He must have noticed Damian’s hesitation because Tim takes the hand in his own and intertwines their fingers on top of his belly.

Swallowing, he answers. “I don’t know. This is scary, that much I’m sure of. The idea of--of being…” He trails off, worrying his bottom lips.

“Pregnant,” Damian provides. Tim nods.

“Yeah, that. I just, I don’t know,” He sighs, “It’s not the most pleasant thought, but I’ve also been trained for it.”

Damian doesn’t speak for awhile. He just holds Tim, watching the sun move higher in the sky.

“I am sorry,” He whispers, later. They don’t look at each other, both fixated on the window.

Tim feels the bubbling begin in his gut and knows the next wave is minutes away. He brings their hands up to his lips, then rolls Damian over.

***

Meals are left outside their door, and Damian retrieves them throughout the day when Tim is fully present. They eat and talk about a multitude of things.

Damian shares about the trips he took as a child with his mother. Tim tells him about traveling with Sanda and the lessons she taught him. Damian even laughs when the older recounts a story of a time he fell into a lake in Norway because he wanted to learn how to ice fish and Sandra wouldn’t teach him. Tim learns about his favorite books and the movies he believes are worth a watch when Tim gets around to it. Tim tells him he has more freetime now than when he was a child.

“Where did you grow up?” Damian questions him before taking a bite of a fish--the very one that brought up ice fishing--that had been brought to them for dinner.

Tim sips his tea, smiling. “Unbelievably, not very far from your father.”

Damian gapes for a second before collecting himself. “Gotham?”

Tim nods, nibbling on some bread. “Born and raised. Well,” He tilts his head, lifting his shoulders, “Partially.”

“Did you know my father?”

“No,” He says, shaking his head. “My parents did, though. Not well, but they were acquaintances.”

“Who are your parents?”

“Janet and Jack Drake. Betas.”

“What happened to them?” Damian curses himself, but the question was too tempting not to ask.

Tim sets down the bread, eyes fixed on the silver platter in front of him. “They died.”

Damian frowns, putting down his own food. “How?”

The omega’s shoulders tense, his hands forming fists at his sides. Damian goes to retract his question but Tim interrupts.

“They were murdered,” He spits out angrily.

Damian bites his cheek. “Timothy,” He starts, but again is cut off.

“It was a robbery gone wrong. My parents and I weren’t supposed to be home, we had a party to attend. Unfortunately, I had felt sick and forced them to stay home.”

Damian’s expression softened, hands folding in his lap.

“When the man found me, I was in their closet. Terrified and two days away from my first heat.”

“I’m sorry.”

They ate the rest of their meal in silence.

***

By the fourth day, Tim could feel the heat subsiding. Each day the waves were slower, more time in between them. Damian slept beside him, moon high in the sky. Tim felt the rise and fall of each breath, listened the to soft thumping of his heart, the rhythmic murmuring pulsing against his ear. Tim stole a glance at the younger’s face.

Damian looked peaceful when he slept, like he didn’t have a worry in the world, like he wasn’t an heir to a tyrannical, oppressive country with outdated societal norms. Like he was normal.

He looked like someone Tim wanted to protect.

***

During the sixth day, Tim knew he had maybe one or twos waves before the heat would be done. Damian could sense it to from the way Tim was less hurried when they fucked, more cognizant during their sessions, present even during waves.

They lay in bed, knotted, as Tim tells Damian about one of his trips to Italy.

“And I told her, ‘Just jump right in! It’s like a lake!’ And-And-” Tim is choking on his own words, swallowed up by his full bellied laughter- “And she does! She just jumps into the damn canal!” Tim is howling and Damian lets himself chuckle, pushing Tim’s sweat-damp hair out of his eyes. They look like the sky outside.

“Oh, it was so funny!” Damian hums, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Sandra nearly lost her mind. I wish you could have seen her face,” Tim then proceeds to open his mouth like a fish, eyes comically wide, “She was so shocked she didn’t know what to do with herself. Next thing I know, Sandra’s running towards us screaming at the top of her lungs, I’m laughing like a madman, and Steph’s swimming in the filthiest water known to man.”

Damian furrows his brows. “Steph?”

Tim’s still laughing. “Yeah, Stephanie. She was with me and Sandra until we were like seventeen.”

“I had never heard of her,” Damian comments.

Tim wants to tell him _that’s not true,_ but doesn’t think the response will bode well, especially when Damian was still on the tailend of his rut.

“You know her mate,” He decides to say instead, less attacking, but still direct. “Cassandra.”

Damian is deadly still against Tim. The omega can hardly feel him breath.

“How do you know that?” The words are clipped.

Tim swallows, preparing himself. He does not know if he made the right idea to bring this up now, especially while they were connected, but it is too late to turn back.

“Damian, that night, when you found me in the dining room, I wasn’t actually there for food.” Tim’s mouth feels like it’s full of cotton.

He takes silence as a means to go on.

“I was there to meet Steph. I had seen her earlier that day during my visit to the doctor. We couldn’t really talk then so she told me to meet her in the kitchen at midnight and when I got there, she and Cass were there.”

The silence continued.

“She told me about her being pregnant. That she was worried about the child being anything but a beta. Especially it being an omega,” Tim paused, thinking about what Steph told him happened to omega children, even those royal born.

“Also,” Tim sighed, digging his hole even deeper, “I heard you speaking to Cass that night. I didn’t know it was her at the time but after the conversation with Steph, I pieced it together.”

Damian’s hands left his body. Tim was sure that if it wasn’t for the knot, he would have pulled away completely from Tim. At least he hadn’t told the Prince about their plans to escape.

The silence went on for what felt like hours to Tim, even if it was only a few minutes. Damian refused to look at the omega and Tim didn’t make him. It was uncomfortable, being so close, literally tied together, yet feeling worlds apart. Ironic, really.

“So you know what happens to omega children?” Was the question that broke the silence.

“Yes,” Tim whispered.

Damian looked down at him finally, jade eyes meeting clear blue ones. Tim saw sadness reflected in them. A deep pain, remorseful, something grief-ridden and personal. It made Tim’s stomach churn.

“Then I must gather she also told you of their plan to defect from the country.”

Tim thought of denying the accusation but felt it futile, Damian would know. Most likely he had been told himself by Cassandra.

Tim nodded. “Can you blame them?”

“No, I cannot,” Damian answered immediately.

Together, they looked at each other and then down to Tim’s stomach. It was unspoken, but the sentiment was there, the pain for both their friends and themselves. And a prayer that both wished to be answered. Damian settled a hand on his stomach and Tim rested his own over it.

“It’s not fair.”

 _No,_ Tim thought, _it never has been._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did remember one fun fact! Kiran's name means "ray of light" in Urdu, Pakistan's national language.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim goes into heat, gets pregnant, had a mental breakdown, and then suggests treason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPDATE! I had a lot going on and just generally didn't feel like writing until one night I chugged a monster and pounded out the last like 4k of this shit so hopefully it's good. 
> 
> Also, I decided that I wanted this to be six chapters instead of five bc I didn't think I would be able to cover the rest of the story in two more chapters. 
> 
> Anyways it is four am and i am tired so here is the story, please like it. 
> 
> Not beta'd, again.

_When our two souls stand up erect and strong,_

_Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,_

_Until the lengthening wings break into fire_

_At either curved point,--what bitter wrong_

_Can the earth do to us, that we should not long_

_Be here contented? Think. In mounting higher,_

_The angels would press us on and aspire_

_To drop some golden orb of perfect song_

_Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay_

_Rather on earth, Beloved--where the unfit_

_Contrarious moods of men recoil away_

_And isolate pure spirits, and permit_

_A place to stand and love in for a day,_

_With darkness and the death-hour rounding it._

 

 -Elizabeth Barrett Browning, _When Our Two Souls Stand Up Erect and Strong_

  


When Damian disappeared in the morning after the last day of heat, Tim wasn’t surprised. He had expressed that he wasn’t angry at Tim but the older wasn’t entirely convinced. Angry he may not have been, but Tim sensed he felt betrayed. Damian understood his feelings of betrayal were largely inappropriate considering Tim’s situation and that Tim had all the reason to lie to him-even if it was only lying by omission-so Damian had kept his personal thoughts, well, personal.

 

Damian did not appear in front of Tim again for another two weeks, although he had sent a couple of movies to Tim’s room, with a note that said:   


_Some of my favorites. For when paper people aren’t satisfactory._

 

_-D_

 

Tim smiled, grateful, as he popped in the first movie, _The Mark of Zorro,_ the 1940 version. _._ The case appeared old and scratched, as if the film had been owned for a long time. Tim felt it odd that that kind of movie was permitted there given its plot, something in his gut telling him that Damian might own a special only-unopposed-spoiled-prince’s copy. Tim didn’t complain if it meant he had something actually pleasurable to watch.

 

He limited himself to two movies a week so that they wouldn’t dwindle down so quickly. He was only given about ten and he had no way of contacting Damian safely to ask for more. Although if he did feel in the mood for television Tim would occasionally rewatch movies. During the third week he watched _Citizen Kane_ (another movie he would bet that Damian was the only owner of) almost every night just because he was so bored and the material was familiar. Tim had always enjoyed mysteries as a child and his mother was a classic movie fanatic so it was only natural he had watched movies like _Rear Window_ and _Citizen Kane._

 

Tim could remember late nights spent with Janet in her bedroom while his father was away on business trips, snuggled together under layers of blankets, surrounded by sweets galore, and watching a film his mother could quote by heart. Tim almost always fell asleep midway through the movie, but on occasion, usually when he was actually interested in the movie, he would stay up the whole way through, just long enough for her to lean over and whisper to him,

 

“ _Like this one?”_ Her voice always sounded like bells. Tim wonders if that was from the glossy haze of nostalgia or simply because she was like music: expressive, compelling, a whole symphony wrapped inside a human body.

 

 _“I do but I don’t get it,”_ They were watching _Gone With the Wind, “Why won’t she just be with Rhett? The other guy is so stuck up and he already has someone he loves!”_

A sad smile settled on his mother’s dim lit face, _“Sometimes we fall more in love with the idea of someone instead of who they actually are.”_

 

When Rhett left, Tim bawled ugly tears in Janet’s arms. _“She said she loved him! Why did he leave when she finally loved him!”_

 

_“You don’t often know how much you love something until it’s gone.”_

 

Tim thought she was lying, especially since he knew how much he loved his parents and they were still around.

 

He found out at thirteen that his mother was right.

 

***

“Kiran,” Tim addressed her as she changed his bedsheets. Four and a half weeks had passed since his heat.

 

“Yes, sire?” She opened the window to set the old bedsheets on the railing. It was sunny outside finally after nearly a week of rain.

 

“How old are you?” Tim fiddled idly with his straw.

 

The woman sighed, not bothering to stop cleaning.

 

“Eighteen, sir.”

Tim smiled. “You’re younger than me.”

She nodded absently. “Yes, sire, I am.”

“Is it weird to call the Prince ‘your highness’ when he’s the same age as you then?”

Kiran shrugged, patting the dust from the rug out the window. “I have referred to the Prince as that since before I can remember.” A pause. “When I was a child, I did not know he had a name. I thought he was simply called Prince.”

“Like the singer?”

“Who?”

Tim huffed, forgetting she wouldn’t know a foreign artist like Prince. “Nevermind. So you grew up in the palace?”

Kiran shook her head. “Not always. I didn’t begin living here until I was twelve. But I visited often with my mothers.”

“Two moms, huh?”

“An alpha and a beta,” She began putting his new sheets on.

Tim slurped his empty drink. “What about your sisters?”

Tension drew in her shoulders, the white fabric going ridgid as her breath stilled, hands clutching the sheets with ghost-white knuckles. Guilt flooded Tim’s gut but he didn’t retract his statement, curiosity outweighing sensitivity.

“The older two visited with me often. Our younger sister was usually sick,” Her tone was calm, albeit sharper than normal.

“What are your two older sisters caste?” Tim nudged further.

“Alphas.”

“And what do they do?”

Kiran seemed in a hurry to finish her work.

“One is a court official and the other works security detail.” She tucked in corners and folded with haste.

“What about the younger one?”

Silence. Kiran’s hands stopped completely, the old blankets still gripped in her hands. The eunuch’s golden face was suddenly a ghastly pale, her dark eyes glossed over, again as if she were living in a memory.

“Kiran?” Tim was cautious, afraid he might scare her away.

She didn’t look at him as she proceeded toward the exit. In the doorway she stopped, muttering, “She was an omega.”

“Was?”

Tim knew the answer but he still felt compelled to ask.

“She’s dead now.”

Tim didn’t see Kiran for four days.

***

It had been five weeks and Tim’s heat was fast approaching again. As happy as he was to be childless, anxiety still seized his heart every day as he got closer to his heat. It was another chance at pregnancy. Another opportunity to bring an unwanted child into the world. A child who would either be an heir to tyrannical dynasty, a pawn of the court, or a slave.

The only pro amongst a sea of cons was that Tim would see Damian again. He did look forward to discussing the movies with Damian, and to ask if he had any more, but he was also hoping Damian would be able to give him information on Stephanie. Now knowing Cass was basically around Damian at all times during the day and that they had a confidant relationship, Tim would try to worm anything he could out of the Prince.

Tim knew Steph would be at least four months along at this point, judging from her due date and the small bump in her stomach he saw when they met. Tim wondered when they would be able to detect the gender and caste of the baby, he knew it was usually around the five month mark, but it wasn’t always accurate. Gender was easy, caste was harder.

He wanted to see her again, to talk to her more about everything. Tim had so many questions he didn’t know if they would ever have enough time to answer them all. How did she know? When did she know? What was it like being pregnant? Was it scary? What’s is it like being fully bonded? Can she really feel what Cass feels? What exactly is their plan to escape? Can he come?

Too many questions, they made Tim’s brain hurt.

He spent the night before his first heat wave alternating between thinking about Stephanie and Damian, occasionally taking a break so he could curl up in pain, his whole back convulsing as his body prepared itself. Tim attributed the intense pain to his and Damian’s half-bond.

Tim’s body was literally aching to be tied to Damian.

***

Flames licked his feet, tendrils of white heat curled around his limbs, seeds of desire sprouted in his lungs, using his throat and mouth as a flower bed. He couldn’t move, could only choke on the desperate need that seized his being. Control relinquished itself to the need without his consent, his own body moving on its own, reason taking backseat as instinct stole the wheel.

The sun beat down on his clothed back like lava being poured on his skin. His mouth was stuffed with cotton that dried out his words. He crawled like desert drifter in search of an oasis.

Suffering wasn’t a powerful enough word to describe what this was.

“Sire!” The yell sounded like a banshee scream. He covered his ears. “Sir, are you okay? Is it the heat, sir?”

 _Shut up, don’t speak to me!_ His mind screamed back.

“Fetch His Highness!” Hands on his body, careful, gentle, tugging him off his feet.

Tim sobbed, too anguished to fight back. He wanted to be touched but not by those hands. The size was wrong, the grip too light, the temperature too hot. The smell, or lack thereof, wasn’t pleasant. It wasn’t calming, the opposite.

“Come, sire, I will take you to the Chambers.” His feet moved on their own as they walked.

A door creaked and he was on a bed, robes being stripped by the same _wrong_ hands. He whined, pushing them away with all the force he could muster. _Not you,_ he wanted to screech, _not you-him!_

“Sir, please, I am just trying to help you.”

He kept pushing, crying out, “Damian!”

“His highness is coming, please be patient.”

Tim didn’t listen, just continued to cry until his voice was hoarse, until Damian’s name was lost to incoherent babbling as he was stripped to the bone.

Another creak of the door and Tim could smell him. The hints of rosemary, notes of clary sage, and a distinct scent of lavender. His body reacted, hips bucking, whine tearing through his throat, hands reaching out to the alpha.

“Leave,” Damian bit out, slamming the door shut. In an instant, he was covering Tim with his body, every inch of him pressed against Tim’s bare skin.

Hands tangled in his hair and an absurdly hot mouth was devouring Damian. Tim’s body rolled like waves beneath him, aching to be touched by anything that rubbed against him. Damian was untucking himself, stopping his hips from bucking against Tim’s, and settling in between the omega’s thigh, spreading the tender skin apart to reveal his leaking hole. Slick was seeping into the covers below and leaving a wet stain against Damian’s grey pants.

Tim smelled _delicious,_ like fresh honey and cinnamon and lavender--the scent that he had picked up from Damian’s bite. The scent that signified that Tim was _his._ Damian’s chest burned with possessiveness and roughly grabbed Tim’s hips, the omega half-crying, half-moaning at the sudden harsh treatment.

“You’re _mine,”_ Damian growled against his mouth, nipping at Tim’s lips.

Tim sobbed, nodding, his hands curling even more in Damian’s hair. It stung but Damian liked the pain, liked how desperate he could make Tim and how the boy squirmed under him. He wanted Tim to beg for him. He wanted him to ask for Damian to take him until he couldn’t think, couldn’t imagine anyone else but Damian, until Tim was forced to live strictly in that moment with Damian and nothing else. Until Tim was as consumed with Damian as Damian was with him.

“Damian,” His voice was shaking with a mixture of emotions as he wrapped his legs around the alpha’s waist. “Damian, please. Need you. Please…” Tim trailed off as he kissed Damian’s jaw.

Damian canted his hips, rubbing his unsheathed member against Tim’s. The older cried out for him, wildly bucking up against the friction. Pressing a quick kiss to Tim’s cheek, Damian pulled back. He quickly removed his dress shirt and shucked down his pants until he could kick them off. Fully naked, Damian sank to his knees, face level with Tim’s lower half.

“Damian?” Tim asked breathily, raising up on his forearms to gaze through hooded lids at the boy.

Damian smiled, lifting Tim’s legs over his shoulders and settling his hands on his thighs, then pressed his face in until his mouth was against Tim’s twitching entrance. The omega shivered above him, keening as hot breath teased his wet hole. Damian pressed a gentle kiss to the ring and Tim jerked. When a warm, velvety tongue began lapping at his hole, Tim almost screamed.

Urged on by the omega’s noises, Damian delved his tongue inside, flicking it in and around the puckering muscles. Tim’s slick melded with Damian’s saliva, wetness leaking out and being forced back into Tim as the alpha relentlessly tongue fucked him. Tim shook, his toes curling and fingers threading through Damian’s hair, giving harsh tugs when Damian pulled away for too long.

The heat of Damian’s mouth was driving Tim insane with desire. He wanted that mouth all over him, especially on his cock, and also wanted it to stay there, fucking him until he couldn’t breathe. He knew that it wouldn’t be enough, he could already feel a dull ache under the pleasure, the pain to be filled, but Damian’s mouth was warm and wet and pushed all the right buttons.

Damian sighed against Tim, feeling his own erection throbbing between his legs. As much as he loved tasting the omega and making him squirm, Damian needed his own release. Reluctantly, he pulled away, wiping his chin. Tim whined but the other hushed him with a sloppy kiss, using the distraction to swiftly align himself with Tim’s entrance and thrust in.

Tim gasped, arms winding tight around the alpha’s neck and eyes fluttering as Damian began to fuck him without warning. The pace was hard and fast, the younger wasting no time to find the right angle to please both him and Tim. With each thrust, Tim let out an equally sinful noise, the room brimming over with the sound of slapping skin and broken cries on either end.

“Dami-ngh, need-need you,” Tim practically sobbed. He nipped and sucked at Damian’s neck and clavicle, mewling when the alpha’s fingernails started to dig into his hip flesh.

Tim felt like another person, like his body was possessed. He hadn’t remember a time in his life where he craved a single person so much. Even his first time with Damian had been nothing more than purely physical need, his hormones syncing with Damian’s, egged on by the scent of an actual alpha.

But this--this was indescribable.

Tim wanted Damian in a way his mind couldn’t comprehend. It was something in his bones, etched into the marrow and flowing in his blood. It was too compelling, as if Damian had a string he could pull and draw Tim close without even realizing it. And Tim would follow because he had no choice. Not because he was a slave, but because his whole soul screamed at him to be with Damian and no one else. The thought was absolutely terrifying and it excited him.

Tim wanted nothing more than to be Damian’s.

And for Damian to be his.

Tim’s tongue swirled over the gland on Damian’s neck, earning a long, deep moan from the other, knowing how sensitive the spot would be during his rut. Tim smile, kissing the enlarged gland before grazing his teeth over the skin. Tim toyed with the idea of biting down, sinking his teeth into the reddened flesh like Damian had to him. He wondered what it would feel like if he did--would the bond happen instantly, right in the heat of the moment, or would they not even feel it until hours afterward?

Would Damian be angry, pinning Tim down and growling at him with shark-like teeth, holding Tim by the throat until the other was clawing at him for breath? Would he be too consumed by the sensation to do anything but kiss Tim until they were both dizzy, biting lips until they bled, coming up for air not knowing whose blood was staining whose lips. Or would he be scared, holding onto Tim desperately, unable to let go but too horrified to do it on his own, perhaps even hiding his shame into Tim’s trembling shoulder.

All ideas were enticing, each other thrilling and convincing Tim that this was _right._

Tim suckled on the gland, his pleasured groan reverberating off sweaty skin. The scent went to his head. He couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t think at all.

Damian fucked into him harder, warm palms pressing against the back of his thighs to spread him further, take him deeper. The omega’s toes curled with borderline pain as he was stretched open for the boy. He grunted into Tim’s ear, the noise seeming to provoke him even more.

It would be a mistake, but it was one he was willing to make. Just to be bound to Damian. For Damian to be as confined to Tim as Tim was to him.

Tim raked his nails down Damian’s back, purposefully hard as to leave red, blistering marks that made Damian hiss at the sting. A distraction. Tim bared his teeth, grazing the plump gland, lapping his tongue over it to taste the salty sweat. He took a great inhale of Damian, eyes rolling into his head from the exhilarating scent. Tim felt like a wild animal, and Damian was his unsuspecting prey.

Or at least, he was supposed to be.

Tim was moments away from biting down on the skin before Damian grabbed hold of his throat, slamming the boy onto the mattress with vigor. His eyes were more pupil than iris, green rimming a black pool. Damian’s gaze was intense and his thrusts unwavering as he held Tim down with enough pressure to secure him but not enough to harm. _A warning._

“Don’t,” The alpha snarled in a voice so deep and dangerous it caused body shattering tremors to course through Tim.  

He whimpered, hands coming to pet Damian’s back, feeling the rise of the scratches he had left. The omega’s vision was blurred with tears, his moans becoming whines and cries, each word a plea for the boy to let him do it, for them to become one. All shame and reason thrown out the window, Tim was absorbed with the want, the need, and all he could do was cry out for the alpha.

Damian’s hand curled tighter around his throat.

“ _No,_ ” A rather hard thrust bounced Tim against the constricting hand and he spluttered.

Even then, Tim could still feel the swell beginning at the base of Damian’s cock. Need for release temporarily outweighing the need to be bonded, Tim reached for his own dick, stroking it haphazardly.

Damian leant down as he fucked hard and fast into Tim. His breath ghosting over the older’s lips, hot and just barely out of reach. Tim pushed himself against Damian’s hand, trying to touch their mouths together. His breathing restricted, Tim’s head began to swim. He bucked into his own hand when Damian’s steadily erratic thrust would allow.

As Damian’s knot grew, his hand tightened until Tim’s vision became spotty. He choked a sob name before he came on himself, body shaking with release and high strung emotions, one hand gripping onto Damian’s shoulder for support.

Damian groaned as he gave on last shallow thrust into Tim. His hips stuttered, the knot keeping him from moving, and he was breathing Tim’s name into the world as he came inside the omega, cock pulsing and warm seed filling him up. The boy fell against Tim, exhausted.

He felt Tim crying. Soft, muffled sobs as his body shook underneath Damian. Tim’s hands wiped at his eyes but the tears were far too many to be dusted away. Tim hated himself, hated what his life had become, what _he_ had become, that he had gotten to the point that he was begging to be bound to a man he didn’t love and who didn’t love him. He hated that he was crying in front of basically a stranger. And he hated even more than a small part of him still felt the want to be tied to Damian forever.

Tim cried until his lungs felt like they were collapsing and until his eyes could barely open. His body burned with rage and humiliation and all he could do was sob into Damian’s shoulder as they both laid together.

Damian held him close whispering a small, mournful, “I’m sorry.”

***

“I need more movies,” Tim murmured, back pressed against Damian’s chest. They were still tied together after their second wave. Tim didn’t want to look at Damian.

“You finished the films already?” The question was unnecessary but Tim knew Damian was trying his best to take Tim’s mind off of their situation.

“Yep. I had seen a couple of them from when I was younger.” Tim fiddled with a loose thread of the pillow.

Damian nodded. “From your time with Sandra?”

Tim shook his head, “No. My mother.”

The boy tensed behind him. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Tim shrugged, “She was a huge movie buff. Knew all the classics and made sure I knew them too. Didn’t get it when I was young, I thought most of them were boring.”

Damian tentatively put his arm around Tim’s waist, pausing for Tim to say no, and wrapping it tightly around the boy when the rejection never came.

“Do you get it now?”

Tim shifted, running his hand up and down Damian’s arm. “Yeah, I think so. Wish I would’ve stayed up for more of them, though.” Tim chuckled but it sounded sad.

“Well, I’m sure I have plenty of classics for you to watch all the way through.”

***

The third and fourth waves were almost back to back. Tim spent both of them buried in the crook of Damian’s neck, arms wound tightly his shoulders, biting down on the skin until it broke and blood seeped into his mouth.

It wasn’t the real thing but it was enough to sate Tim.

“Your scent is thicker than usual,” Damian panted beside him, “And the time between your waves is shorter than before. Are your heats normally so…”

“Inconsistent?” Tim finished for him.

Damian sighed. “Yes, that.”

“No, not really. This is the first time it’s been like this.”

The silence that fell between them was uncomfortable. It was minutes before Damian spoke again. A faint whisper Tim strained his ears to hear.

“Is it because of the mark?”

“Yes.”

Damian said nothing else.

***

During the second day, Tim had a little more time to spare between heats and his mind was clearer, the craving inside of him almost nonexistent. He and Damian ate and drank in between waves and swapped more stories of their childhood. Damian didn’t ask about Tim trying to bite him which Tim was immensely grateful for. He wouldn’t be able to look at Damian again if the topic was brought up.

“What is Gotham like?” Damian asked as they ate their lunch/dinner.

“I thought you’ve been before?” Tim said around a mouthful of apple.

“I have but I wasn’t allowed in the city but a handful of times and it was only to visit my father’s work,” Damian played with the greens on his plate, a small smile gracing his lips, “Although I did once visit an ice cream shop with Pennyworth while my father worked late. I had never eaten ice cream before, mother would never feed me such obscenely sugary treats, and it was the first time I had gotten to see any other part of the city.”

Tim smiled fondly at the boy.

“I wonder if it’s still there,” Damian mumbled, more to himself than to Tim. “Anyways,” The Prince picked up a forkful of vegetables, “What is Gotham like?”

Tim thought. He recalled his old home, bright and open and surrounded by gardens. He remembered his school and his friends houses and shopping with his mother at multiple complexes filled with all kinds of people. He also remembered dingy gas stations and dimly lit alleyways crawling with unseen terrors and the stench of desperation drenching certain corners. The city was fiercely beautiful in a way that made her just as alluring as she was deadly.

“It’s...gorgeous. The architecture is phenomenal, I mean some of the buildings there are just amazing,” Tim set down his food, “And I don’t think there’s any place you can find better pizza. I don’t care what New Yorker say. But all food seems to taste better there, especially the ice cream.” Tim sent Damian a knowing smile.

“It’s filled with just a-a great variety of people. Like you’ve never seen. Gotham’s really progressive, like, they’re really accepting, as you know, of omegas. I mean it’s not perfect, there’s always assholes who think they’re ‘superior’-” Tim used air quotations as he rolled his eyes and Damian huffed a laugh-“But it’s still open minded, thanks to Bruce Wayne, actually.” Tim watched Damian perked up at the mention of his father. “He really pushed for the equalization of omegas. His, uh, his ward, or adopted son--I have no idea how it works--Dick Grayson, I’m sure you’ve met him-”

“I have.”

“He’s an omega.”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, and it was a big deal when I was young because generally alphas like Bruce don’t take in omegas. And they especially didn’t make them heir to their fortunes.”

“Technically, I am the heir to the Wayne fortune,” Damian grumbled. Tim hushed him.

“Anyways, back to Gotham. It’s a great city and the Waynes have really worked on it, I mean at least when I was a kid they had done a number, but it’s still not the best, y’know? Well, you don’t, but you get what I mean.”

Tim could swear on his life that Damian laughed.

“I suppose I do,” He was smiling, fork twisting in a pile of pasta absently.

Tim sighed, “It was up to the neck in crime but it wasn’t all bad. And the criminals weren’t all bad either. A lot of them just had bad luck and chose the wrong path. They had gotten the shit end of the stick in life,” Tim gave a bitter chuckle, “I can kind of relate.”

Damian nodded, finally taking a bite of pasta.

“Do you miss it?”

“Gotham?”

Another, prompting, nod.

“Yeah, sometimes.” _Always._

***

The third day was the easiest and, from what Tim’s body told him, the last. It was nearing ten o’clock when Tim began to feel the heat in his stomach cool, the coil loosening. He relaxed against the mattress and let the tension roll off his shoulders. Damian laid beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him in close. Tim snuggled against his chest.

The questions Tim wanted to ask danced on his tongue. He knew this would be his moment, if he waited Damian might fall asleep and he doubted that the boy would still be by his side until the morning, but he was afraid he would upset Damian by bringing up the topic. He was unsure if the alpha’s was still hurt from their last conversation. Damian himself had yet to speak about Cass and Steph, which Tim hadn’t expected him to, but Tim was dying to know of his friend’s fate.

“Damian,” He started, nervously drawing patterns onto the boy’s tan skin.

“Hm?” Damian trailed his fingers lazily up Tim’s spine.

“You haven’t, um, haven’t by chance heard anything about Stephanie, have you?”

The fingers paused and Tim held his breath. Seconds later, Damian was sighing but his still continued to rub Tim’s back, so the omega took that as a good sign.

“Cassandra told me that Stephanie visited the doctor a few days ago to learn the status of their child.”

“And?” Tim looked up at Damian whose eyes were glued stubbornly to the window.

“The child will be a boy but its caste is still undetermined.”

Tim frowned deeply, curling his hand into a fist. “Talk about scary.”

“We are talking about that.”

Tim shook his head, “No, that’s not--anyway, is that all? Do you know anything else?”

“No. Though Cassandra is my guard, we rarely have opportunities to speak privately. She tells me only what she can and only what she deems important. I must respect that.” Damian sounded like he didn’t enjoy respecting it.

“I see.” Tim worried his bottom lip, tapping his fingers along Damian’s pectorals. “Will you tell me if you get any more information?”

“I will try.”

It was all Tim could ask for.

***

Tim vomited into the toilet violently. His hands clutched the porcelain so tightly they were the same shade of white. Hair swung in front of his eyes, his vision hazy from the tears glazing over them. Before he could think of moving, his stomach rolled and he surged forward, empty the rest of his lunch into the bowl. Pain vibrated through his body while he heaved, knees aching on the hard floor and arms shaking.

Once he was sure the waves had ended, Tim flushed the contents down the toilet. He stood feebly and hobbled to the skin, washing his hands and face. He stared at himself in the mirror, noticing how pale he looked, as if he were some ghostly apparition, damn near translucent in the fluorescent light. His eyes had dark circles rimming them and bags so heavy they could be used as a woman’s purse.

Tim blamed it on the lamb he had for dinner.

He grabbed his toothbrush but before he could even pop open the toothpaste he was lurching over the basin of the sink and throwing up.

 _It’s definitely food poisoning_ , Tim thought.

***

A horrid stench floated through the air, causing Tim to plug his nose as he read. It was like someone was burning hair in the kitchen.

“What’s that smell?” He asked Kiran as she readied the table for lunch.

“It’s kofta, sir,” She droned, laying out the silverware.

Tim’s nose crinkled. “Has it been burnt? It smells awful!” He smiled sheepishly, “Uh, no offense.”

Kiran turned on her heel, eyeing him suspiciously. “None taken, sire…” Her eyes narrowed, brows knitting together. “Sir, forgive me, but I smell nothing out of sorts will the meal. Are you perhaps-”

“I think it’s just left over funk from when I was sick,” Tim hurriedly replied, stuffing his nose back in his book.

“I see.” Kiran’s gaze lingered for a second before she went back to setting the table.

***

Tim groaned into his pillow, clutching his head. It was the fifth headache he had had that day, each worse than the one prior. He reached for the glass on his bedside table and cursed when he tilted it back and nothing hit his mouth.

Sliding reluctantly out of bed, he shuffled to the bathroom. Tim stared himself down as he filled his cup with tap water. Still pale, still had dark circles, still sick.

He glanced at his stomach. Three weeks had passed since he and Damian…

No. He stopped himself, taking a long swig of lukewarm water.

He was sick. This was all from his lack of appetite.He just needed more nutrients. He needed more sleep.

He was sick.

***

“Sire, you are looking ill, perhaps we should schedule a visit to the doctor,” Kiran was collecting his week’s robes for laundry.

Tim froze, nails digging into the binding of his book. “No.”

“Sir-”

“I’m fine, really,” Tim smiled at her pointedly. “I just need more sleep is all.”

She was unconvinced. Tim felt queasy.

“Then a nap? Maybe out on the terrace so you may breathe in some fresh air,” He voice was fading but Tim nodded, he had to keep up appearances. “I can send for a ham-sire!”

Tim ran to the bathroom with his hands over his mouth. He barely made it before he was hurling breakfast and lunch down the drain. Kiran was hot on his trail, standing beside him with a towel at the ready.

“Sir, please, you are obviously-”

“I am fine!” Tim screamed at her, panting heavily. Another roll and he was vomiting again.

“Sire-”

“No!” His voice was hoarse, his eyes watering and his mouth dripping with bile. He was the epitome of pitiful.

“ _Timothy,”_ Kiran whispered softly.

Tim didn’t have time to comment on the use of his name because he was too busy drifting asleep.

***

The first thing he saw when he woke up was a bright light shining down on him. Tim squinted angrily at the light as if it had personally scorned him. He gazed at the pure white sheets over his body, noting that his robes were gone in favor of an equally white gown. Tim turned to his side, facing the white wall. The only decoration was of a poster that demonstrated the difference between an omega’s body and a beta female’s body.

 _‘The only time an omega may be impregnated is during their eustrus cycle that comes once a month. A female beta may get pregnant at almost anytime but chances of pregnancy are higher during ovulation.”_ Tim read. He scowled, flipping to the other side of the room.

There was an empty chair and a metal desk with a couple standard medical instruments and a few charts. Tim counted the amount of cotton swabs were in the glass jar to pass the time.

Two minutes and eighty-seven cotton swabs later, Dr. Gadhi entered the room.

“Ah, you’re awake.” He smiled at Tim while he took his seat in the swivel chair. “How are you feeling?”

Tim sat up and shrugged. “I feel okay right now. How long was I out?”

“Two hours.”

The boy furrowed his eyebrows. “I really do need to get more sleep.”

He didn’t look to confirm his thoughts but Tim felt Dr. Gadhi staring at him.

“Sir,” His tone was cautious, “You know that this likely isn’t anemia, right?”

Tim didn’t reply. He clutched the sheets in his hands, eyes locked on the wall in front of him. He counted the bricks.

“All the symptoms that Kiran told me--the vomiting, change in appetite, fatigue, are all symptoms of pregnancy. She even said she had noticed a difference in your scent, something milky.”

Tim shook. Fourteen bricks.

“Of course we cannot be entirely certain until we test you.”

Twenty-six bricks.

“I’ll need to draw some blood.”

Thirty-two bricks.

“So wait here and I will be back in a moment.”

Forty-eight bricks.

“I will send Kiran in while you wait.”

Fifty-nine bricks total.

Kiran quietly opened the door and stepped inside. Tim didn’t acknowledge her.

“How are you feeling, sir?”

Silence.

“The doctor said you looked much better.”

Tim unfurled his hands.

“He should be back any minute now. The blood tests won’t take long.”

His eyes closed. Kiran looked to the ground.

“I’m sor-”

“Why does he call you Kiran? I thought eunuchs weren’t supposed to be addressed by their names.” Any conversation was better than an apology. He had heard enough of those.

She shifted her weight to one food and then the other, nervously biting her tongue. But she would cave. Tim knew she would. She always did.

“We are close. I have known Ismail since I was a child.”

“You’re not really an adult now, though.”

“Sire-”

“Was he friends with your mothers?”

Kiran sighed but continued, “Yes. Especially my beta mother, Rana. They grew up together.”

Tim gave her a strained smile, finally meeting her eyes. They were downcast and again was the film over them, the memories clouding over her present.

“What happened to your youngest sister? The one that died.”

Tim had never seen a human be so still. She didn’t even breathe. He wanted to feel guilty for bringing up the topic again but with the impending test looming over him, Tim felt rather apathetic.

“She killed herself.”

Tim nodded. Kiran closed her eyes, breathing through clenched teeth.

“Her name was Bushra. We tried to stall her presentation and when we couldn’t, we tried to hide her,” Every word sounded painful to speak, “It was futile. When she was fifteen, she was given to the court. A month later she had become pregnant. She didn’t want the child, didn’t want the life she had, and she saw no other means of escape. I tried to help, I did, but there was nothing I could do. Three weeks later they found her in her room, hanging.”

Tim was choking on the tension in the air.

“My mothers were killed for hiding her and my second oldest sister and I were placed in the care of Ismail.”

Tim felt his throat tightening. Tears pricked his eyes.

“When I was sixteen, I underwent castration, trading in my alpha status for the life of a eunuch.”

“Why?” Tim’s voice broke.

“I couldn’t be there for my sister, but I can be there for someone else.”

***

It takes an hour for the test to process. It only takes three minutes or the doctor to tell him he’s pregnant.

Tim walks back to his corridors with Kiran, the list of vitamins and instructions crushed in his hand. They do not speak. Kiran matches his pace but doesn’t look at him. He never stops looking forward.

“Would you like any dinner, sir?” She asks while opening the door to the seraglio.

Tim shakes his head, trudging to his bedroom.

“Very well, sir.”

He opens the door but before he steps inside Kiran whispers, “I will go inform His Highness. Shall I bring him to you?”

“No.”

***

The room was spinning. Turning, turning, turning--turning so fast Tim didn’t have time to reach for something to steady himself. He fell, dizzy and nauseous. Eyes shut, teeth clamped, ears ringing.

 _STOP,_ his mind screamed.

Tim was dying. He was a spacecraft falling from the stars being burnt to a crisp by the atmosphere. He was a bird being pushed from the nest too early. He was a boy forced to be a man. He was more tragic metaphor than human.

Hot, wet tears ran down his face. He bit his tongue when a scream bubbled in his throat.

His body wasn’t his own.

It was Sandra’s.

It was Ra’s’.

It was Damian’s.

It was his child’s.

But his body was not his own. It didn’t belong to him. It wasn’t a person, it was an object, a nursery, a tool with many functions. Control was foreign word to him now--had been for years.

Tim pushed himself off the floor and ran to the tall windows, ripping back the curtains and jerking the panes open. He breathed in deeply before a scream tore through him, trembling through his body and reverberating against the trees.

Birds fluttered out of the wooded area, startled by the sudden noise. Tim watched as they took flight, one by one leaving until the only sound was of his breathing and the voice in his head still screaming at him that _this wasn’t real._

As the last bird flew out of sight he couldn’t help but envy the creature. It had the option to leave. It had freedom. And it was never alone, always in formation with its flock, never too far behind; never alone.

Tim left the window open as he stormed to the bathroom. He slammed the door shut, locking it, before crumpling to the ground, not bothering to flip on the lights.

He didn’t want to look at himself. The last thing he wanted to see was himself, a human embodiment of failure.

The dark was comforting. It swallowed him whole, took him in its arms and shushed his relentless mind. The dark was his only friend, the only constant in his life. And now it would protect him from all the bad that lived in the light: the truth, Damian, himself. In the pitch black nothing could be seen and all he had was his own imagination.

So he imagined his mother, mouth split, crinkles by her eyes, hair soft against his blubbery face.

 _“It will be okay, baby,”_ Her voice cooed, _“It won’t always hurt.”_

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to leave. He wanted to force the clock to rewind.

Instead, he cried, tears spilling onto the cold tile.

***

At some point Tim fell asleep in the bathroom. He woke up to muffled voices and his room door been forced open.

Tim sat up, rubbing his eyes. He could already feel how puffy they had gotten.

“-ness, please!” Kiran called after whoever had barged into his room.

“Where is he?”

It was Damian. Tim stilled, watching as light flooded in through the crack at the base of the door.

 _It must be dark out, already,_ Tim thought. He crept to the door, kneeling and peeking through the crack, catching a glimpse of Damian’s feet as he stalked from one side of the room to the other.

“Timothy!” He bellowed, anger and fear present in his voice. “Where is he? Aren’t you supposed to be in charge of him?”

Kiran stumbled over her words. “I-I thought some time alone would be best right now, Your Highness.”

“The window.”

“Sir?”

“The window is open.” Tim heard Damian stomp over to the window.

“You don’t think…” Kiran whispered fearfully.

“Go find Cassandra and tell her to lead a discrete search party. Do not let anyone know of his absence,” Damian commanded.

Tim hurriedly opened the door, nearly falling as he stood up. “Don’t! I’m here!”

Kiran and Damian both faced him. The eunuch breathed a sigh of relief and Damian’s shoulders slumped minutely.

“What were you doing in the bathroom and why did you not make your presence known immediately?” The question was spoken tersely, Damian folding his arms over his chest, a deep scowl settling over his face.

“I was--I just wanted to…” Tim trailed off, biting his lip. Then a sudden surgance of annoyance flared in him. “Why are you in my room? You’re not allowed in here unless I say so.”

Damian cocked an eyebrow.

“Sir, I am so sorry,” Kiran rushed to apologize, “I tried to stop him, to explain you had explicitly said he was not to come, but-”

“It is rather amusing that you are now so adamant about following the rules,” Damian interrupted through gritted teeth.

Kiran looked from Damian to Tim, her confusion obvious.

“Leave us, will you? I wish to speak to my concubine alone.” Damian didn’t bother looking at Kiran, too transfixed on the fuming omega before him.

“Your Highness, I really-”

“It’s fine,” Tim stopped her, breaking their eye contact to give the handmaid a reassuring smile, “Can you just go stand watch, Kiran?”

Her eyes widened at the use of her name and Tim’s request, gaze flickering to Damian before she swallowed and nodded, swiftly exiting the bedroom and resuming her post in the seraglio.

Tim sighed, rubbed his temples, “Why are you here? You could get in troub-”

“Why did you not tell someone sooner?”

Tim furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I was told that you had been showing symptoms before your, for lack of phrasing, ‘visit’ to the doctor. Why did you not bring it to attention before now?” Damian’s eyes barely blinked, let alone shift away from his.

The boy chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to calm himself down. “I didn’t think it was anything to be worried about.”

“Bullshit,” Tim flinched at the harsh use of the swear, a word Tim didn’t know Damian knew, and not one he had expected to hear the Prince say to anyone. “You could not have been that blind. You are too smart for it to have slipped your mind so.”

Anger churned inside his stomach, spanning to his chest and lodging itself in his throat. “Fine,” He spat, “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be pregnant, damn it!” Tim saw Damian’s eye twitched as he yelled. “I didn’t want to believe it so I chose to ignore it. I thought that if I pretended it was all just some coincidence, some ill-timed sickness, then eventually that’s what it would be!”

Damian was silent and Tim couldn’t stand it. He stepped closer, eyes pricking with tears and face red as a beet.

“This is your fault! You and your stupid, backwards, fuck-up of a country!” He came closer to the Prince with every word, closing the space between them quickly, “I am nothing here, do you understand? I hold no status, no importance, hell, I’m not even viewed as a human! I’m a god damn breeding machine! Dogs are treated with more respect than me!”

He was nearly pressed against Damian’s chest. Tears fell down his face.

“You have no idea how fucked this situation is. No fucking idea. You knew when I heard about the omegas that literally killed themselves so they could escape shit like this, I thought it was a lie. I thought that there was no way in hell that stuff like that could happen to me, and if it did I would be too strong to let myself go like that, but now I get it,” Tim furiously wiped at his eyes, cursing how his whole body shook with anxiety, “Because I would do anything if it meant not giving birth to whatever poor child is living inside me. I don’t deserve this and neither do they-” He gave a bitter laugh- “What’s even shittier is that I at least had some happiness in my life. But this child, it’s fucked. No matter what it is, alpha, beta, god forbid omega, it will have to be raised in a society that will never value it as a person, raised by parents who will never be able to love it!”

Tim lost it. He slammed his hands against Damian’s chest, slapping and hitting him with all his might.

“I hate you!” He wailed as he hit the alpha, who stood completely still. “ _Ihateyouihateyouihateyou!_ This is your fault! I hate yo-”

Damian grabbed his arms abruptly and Tim stopped speaking. The younger pulled him in close, forcing him to rest his head against Damian’s chest, a hand snaking firmly around his waist. Tim wriggled in the hold, pushing against Damian but it was to no avail. He gave up and sobbed into the boy.

“I’m sorry,” Damian murmured against his hair, “I’m sorry.”

Tim fisted Damian’s robes as his body was wracked with grief. Damian apologized over and over and over again until Tim was shivering, sniffling, a wet stain soaking the alpha’s green attire, body exhausted and unable to produce anymore tears.

Damian pulled back, hands cupping Tim’s face. He stared solemnly at the omega, thumb pads rubbing Tim’s cheekbones soothingly. Tim’s eyes fluttered shut, pulling Damian down and kissing him gently.

The younger wrapped an arm around his shoulders, the other back around his waist. He didn’t push for Tim to open his mouth, didn’t grab at him like he did when they were fucking, he just kissed Tim tenderly, placing all his feelings--the sorrow, the guilt, the inexplicable trust he had in Tim--all of it went into worshipping his mouth. Tim splays his hands over the plane of Damian’s back, pressing their chests flush to one another.

They stayed there, cloaked in moonlight and the soft glow of the bedside lamp, kissing each other like they were lovers and not partners of unfortunate circumstance.

Tim wonders if this was another world where a twisted hierarchy didn’t rule their lives and they were just two people instead of cogs in a machine, if in that timeline he and Damian could actually be in love with each other. If there wasn’t a caste system would they be normal people or would the world still place them into different categories, Tim always struggling on the bottom while Damian shouldered the hidden burden at the top.

At least they could hurt together.

***

Tim tells Kiran to make sure to wake them before the other eunuchs arrive in the morning so Damian won’t be found out. She advises against their midnight escapade but Tim dismisses her,   


“He’s already got me pregnant, what more can he possibly do?” He smiles but she looks skeptical, agreeing only when Damian himself promises that no harm will be brought upon Tim.

When she leaves, Tim turns off the lamp, settling underneath the covers on his bed. Damian closes the windows and curtains before he strips his robes off until he’s in nothing but his leggings, then he crawls to Tim’s side and pulls the boy to his chest, cradling his head and kissing his hair.

“Damian,” Tim whispers as he runs a hand along Damian’s spine, counting the bumps.

Damian hums, nuzzling his hair, carding through the soft locks.

“What would you have done if I had actually left?”

He stills, body going rigid under Tim’s delicate fingers, but Tim continues to stroke his skin, waiting for his answer.

“I would…” Damian starts, contemplating his answer, “I would let you get as far as you could.”

“You think I would make it?”

“No.” It’s short, to the point, and horribly true. “You would be killed on site if you were not with child.”

“But since I am?”

Damian is silent, his hands curling around Tim until the boy is forced against Damian, who buries his face in the crook of the omega’s shoulder, breathing him in. Tim doesn’t resist, just holds Damian, rubbing his neck.

“They would capture you,” Damian mutters against his shoulder, “You would be brought back, even if they would have to drag you by your hair, and you would be kept as a prisoner in the dungeons, chained up like an animal.” His voice was shaking. “That is how you would be kept until the birth of our child. If you did not die in birth as most mothers do, from the lack of care and the malnutrition, then you would be killed shortly after.”

Tim held Damian tighter when he began to shiver, hoping he could hide his own dread.

“There would be nothing I could do,” Damian’s voice was barely a whisper, broken and hopeless. “There is nothing I can do now.”

If Tim heard Damian’s voice break, he blamed it on the wind howling outside, if he felt moisture on his skin, he blamed it on the heat of their bodies melded together. And if he felt the sobs ripple through Damian’s body, he blamed his own shaking for the problem.

***

Damian left before the sun arose. He tried to slip away unnoticed, but Tim had caught his wrist, opening one eye.

“Why do you never say goodbye?” Damian ignored the pang in his heart at Tim’s sleepy, whiny voice.

“I didn’t think you would want to hear it,” He confesses, holding Tim’s hand.

Tim smiles groggily, closing his eyes. The moonlight illuminates all his best features.

“I want to hear you say hello, so why not goodbye?”

Damian’s lips twitch, the barest smile on his face. He leans down and kisses Tim chastily.

“Goodbyes are not nearly as pleasant as hellos.”

***

When Tim wakes it is to the smell of fresh syrup and pancakes wafting from his bedroom door. Tim thanks god that he still enjoys that smell and heads to the seraglio. In the middle on the table is a tray with his breakfast and a vase of flowers with a note attached. Tim pulled out a chair and began eating, realizing how hungry he was since he had not eaten dinner the night before.

As he ate, he absently grabbed the card from the flowers, opening it. Tim’s mouth nearly dropped when he read the note, quickly understanding that it had not been sent from Damian.

_To succession._

_Ra’s_

Tim dropped his fork, hurriedly shoving the card back into the flowers before scooting away from the table.

They knew. Or, at least, Ra’s knew. And if Ra’s already knew then so would the whole court by the end of the day, including Talia and Sandra. Including Cass. Including Stephanie.

Tim’s appetite was gone.

***

He paced his room until lunch, only eating because of the eunuchs insistence. Afterwards, he took vitamins and was told fresh air would be best for him, that he should get a minimum of sixty minutes in the sun every day. Tim barely listened as the eunuch began to relay his new schedule to him, listing doctor’s visits and new meal plans.

He was too focused on his planning to care. Tim didn’t need to know the new schedule, he would be leaving before he could fall into the routine.

***

Tim waited until nightfall to sneak out. He quietly tiptoed through the seraglio, unlatching the inside lock of the main door that led to the outside hallway. He peeked through the open crack, scanning for anyone out of the usual, only finding the guards at the end of the hallway and at the terrace entrance.

Silently, he crept into the hallway and across the corridor, moving against the wall until he was facing Damian’s door. He jiggled the hand, finding it locked, and huffed. Making a judgement call, he opted to continue to jiggle the handle rather than knock, praying that Damian would hear it but the guards wouldn’t.

His prayers were answered in the form of a sword-wielding, scowling prince who narrowed his eyes at Tim before shoving the boy inside.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He whisper-screamed at Tim once he checked the hall and locked his door. “Do you have any idea what trouble you could have got in if you were caught?”

“I was more worried about you hacking me to pieces with that sword,” Tim joked, gesturing toward the unsheathed katana at Damian’s side.

Damian rolled his eyes. “As if I would have hurt you. Honestly, I should have known from the first jiggle that it was you, no trained assassin would have jiggled the door handle to my room like that.”

“I don’t know what to focus on more: the impression that you’ve dealt with trained assassins before or that you said jiggle twice in one sentence,” Tim smirked when Damian frowned at him, pursing his lips in contempt.

“Why are you here? I thought it was against the rules for you to come in my room without permission.”

“Are you still bitter about last night?”

“No,” Came the instant lie.

Tim chuckled and Damian sighed. “Timothy, please, now is not the time for jokes. What is it that you need?”

Now it was Tim’s turn to frown. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

Damian killed the flutter in his chest before it even began. Tim didn’t miss the glint in his eyes, though, like a child who had just been called a best friend for the first time.

“It is dangerous.”

“So was last night but you didn’t seem to mind.”

Damian fiddled with the sword in his hand, sheathing it and mounting it on his wall before leaning against his bed post. Tim smiled at him hopefully with big, blue, sparkling eyes and Damian was toast.

“You cannot stay the night, I have an early morning meeting with my mother, but I suppose I can allow you to lie with me if it’ll put you at ease,” He replied, tone brimming with false bravado.

Damian clambered onto the bed and Tim grinned, rushing in behind him.  He quickly straddled Damian, forcing the alpha on his back and getting close to his face.

“Who said I wanted to sleep?”

Tim kissed him passionately before the boy could reply. He settled himself down onto Damian’s crotch, making sure to press their groins together as he licked his way into the other’s mouth. Tim pried his lips apart, forcing his tongue into the Prince’s mouth as he moaned, grinding down onto the younger. Tim tugged at Damian’s hair before using one hand to rustling his shirt up, fingers thrumming up the alpha’s hot skin.

Damian ripped his hand away, forcing Tim up and off him in one go until the omega was under him.

“What are you doing?” Damian husked, annoyance bleeding through the lust.

Tim made a face, both confused and irritated with Damian’s behavior. “You don’t want to?”

Damian clicked his tongue. “No, _you_ don’t want to.”

Tim bristled against him. “Yes, I do! That’s why I came-”

“Timothy, you’re not even erect.”

The older blushed furiously, turning his head away from the boy. Damian let go on his hand and settling beside him.

“What’s wrong?”

Tim chewed his cheek, fidgeting under Damian’s intense gaze. He stole a glance and his breath hitched at just how green Damian’s eyes were even in the dark.

“Your grandfather sent me flowers.”

Damian glowered but remained calm. “When?”

“This morning at breakfast. I think they were a congratulations.”

“Did they say so?”

Tim shrugged, “They just said ‘to succession’.”

Damian tt’d and fixated his glare at the sword on his wall. Tim moved closer, twisting so he would be lying on his back, then pulled Damian in.

“I’m sorry,” Damian said, “I am certain that is the reason that mother will be wanting a meeting with me in the morning. She must be thrilled,” He deadpanned. Tim snickered.

“You mean she doesn’t like me? I would have never known,” His voice oozed sarcasm.

“Do not take it personally, my mother does not like anyone. Not even me.”

Tim went silent, the conversation suddenly not funny anymore.

They lay in bed, Damian's hand on Tim's stomach, his head resting on the boy's chest. They know they shouldn't be together, that if they're caught it will result in a punishment far beyond their worst nightmares, but Damian won't tell him to leave. He can't.  
  
Tim whispers to Damian, his voice faint enough to be carried away by the wind, but Damian still hears the words.   
  
"Let's run."

Damian shoots up and Tim shrinks under his glare.

“Are you an idiot?”

Tim shakes his head, propping himself on his elbows, still not eye level with Damian.

“I explained to you last night what would happen if you were caught!”

“If we make a plan--I’ve already started to--and we get some help, we can do it! We could ask Cass and Steph and surely you or them have some contacts that could help us, I know Kiran would, I already thought of asking to see if she could pull some strings with her sisters,” Tim explained, sitting up fully to face Damian.

“Absolutely not,” Damian rejected, fuming.

“Damian, you hate it here. You don’t want this kind of life!” Tim did his best to contain his voice but his emotions were running high. “We-we could go to Gotham! Go see your father and he would help us, I know he would. We could go home, Damian.”

Damian shook his head, cradling it in his hands. “This is my home.”

“No,” Tim corrected, prying his hands away from his face, “It’s not. It’s your prison. It’s my prison. Literally.”

Damian sighed, “I can’t. We...we just can’t, Timothy. They will kill us. They will never stop hunting us down, even if we manage to make it to the border.”

Tim hugged him tightly. “Please. For our child. Damian, I can’t raise it here, you know it won’t survive. I…” Tim choked, “I won’t survive. We have to go. For the baby, our baby, we have to escape,” Tim pleaded, hands clutching at Damian for dear life. He needed the alpha on board, it was the only way he would be able to survive.

Damian pushed him away, holding him at arms length. “I can’t.”

Despair and rage flared inside him. Tim jerked away from the boy and bounced off the bed, storming to the door.

“Timothy,” Damian called out.

“Don’t you _dare_ call my name,” Tim vexed, turning on his heel and pointing an accusing finger at the other still on the bed. “I do not want to speak to you again, do you understand? I was a fool for thinking that you would care-”

“I do care!”

“No, you don’t!” Tim nearly screamed at him. “If you did then you would be helping me, leaving with me. Instead you wallow in self hatred and refuse my offer like a coward. Funny how omegas are viewed as the weak ones when clearly I am the only strong one here.”   


“You have no idea what I have been through,” Damian retorted, strained from holding back his ire.

Tim laughed coldly. “You really think that your life as a _Prince_ can compare to mine as a god damn _slave._ ”

Damian shut his mouth, looking guilty but not any less furious.

Tim turned his back to the alpha indignantly, silently daring Damian to try and stop him.

“I am going to escape whether you help me or not,” He spat spitefully, “Because I would rather risk my life to be free rather than waste it being used as some concubine. I want better for my child, for myself, I thought you would to.”

Tim flung open the door and left, not bothering to check for guards or close it behind him.

Damian did not sleep that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it feel free to give me some kudos, or comment or whatever you want. I am always open to criticism and will try my best to respond to everyone.


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